A Curse of Truth
by butalearner
Summary: An avid fanfiction reader falls into the Harry Potter Universe just before the Triwizard Tournament, and has to come to terms with what he's lost, take advantage of what he's gained, and figure out how to deal with the truths he's hiding. Complete! Detailed rune magic, witty banter...not your usual SI, so give it a shot! See my author page for more info.
1. Chapter 1: Snapping out of it

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything in and about Harry Potter universe. Including me, as you'll soon see.

Warning: Adult Language.

Preface: So this is a self-insert fic. Yeah, I know, self-inserts are supposedly the bane of all fanfiction, but as I believe I say in my profile, I have a bit of a weakness for them. Specifically, I enjoy the self-insert fics where the author-character is a new character, and he retains knowledge of the fictional work in the story. So obviously, this is what you will find within. This is not the first bit of fanfiction that I've written, having had a number of false starts and other stories on the back burner, but it is by far the longest.

Also note that while 'I' am based on me, the PoV character in the story is not me. I am more boring than he is, and I'm older. It can be you, if you like, though unfortunately you'll have to put up with certain traits of mine, not the least of which is being male. Sorry, ladies. I'm also American, so this is fair warning that the PoV character deliberately uses Americanisms.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter One: Snapping out of it on Platform Nine and Three Quarters**

Standing against a circular pillar in Denver International Airport with a backpack slung over my shoulder, I flick my thumb across the e-reader screen to turn the last page of my fiftieth novel-length Harry Potter fanfiction. When I lift my head up to stretch a bit, a massive case of vertigo sweeps over me, and my left hand shoots back to steady myself on the pillar. Unfortunately, it finds nothing but air. It must be on account of the sudden onset of nausea and dizziness, but it seems like I'm falling _through_ the pillar. As I shake off some of the symptoms, the sights and sounds coalesce from blurred and slurred to more distinct shapes and noises. I'm facing a tall, age-worn stone pillar that looks absolutely nothing like one from the airport...or anything I've ever seen, for that matter. My heart tries to jump through my throat as the shrill whistle of a train blares behind me.

"What the—" I begin, but stop after I spin and catch sight of the old steam engine, and the throng of children with their familes bustling about in odd clothing with large carts of luggage and..._is that an owl_? In a split second the familiarity of the scene hits me, and my eyes snap to the engine to verify: _Hogwarts Express._

"You won't need your wand, here, son," a gruff old man says, off to my right. He's leaning over the counter of what appears to be a newspaper stand. I look down, and in my right hand, sure enough, is a light, slightly red-tinted wooden wand clutched in my hand where my e-reader used to be.

"Wha...uh, right, sorry," I say, and I realize with some embarrassment that I'm trying to copy his English accent. Yeah, that's not going to work. I look down at my clothes and find myself still in my travel attire: faded blue jeans and a white tee-shirt, with a zip-up hoodie hanging over my backpack. But something is off about them...

I turn back to the pillar, and it seems completely solid, no matter how much I try to imagine it being a gateway back to Denver International. At first I try to nonchalantly lean back up against the pillar, and eventually I'm openly inspecting the thing, hoping to find some kind of switch or push plate that might send me back.

I find nothing. Absently I rub my chin in thought. I appear to have been magically transported to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Did I fall asleep? No, everything feels real enough...far too vivid for a dream, not to mention I usually wake up once I realize I might be dreaming. I look again at my supposed wand, then at my backpack. What else has changed? Perhaps there are more clues in there...

Rummaging through the pack I find my nicer black shoes on the bottom, crumpled heap of nicer clothes that I'd worn for the meeting, and, in another pocket, a faded brown letter with a red wax seal. Perplexed I dig it out and see it addressed to Bud A. Lerner, Gate C36 Southwest Pillar, Denver International Airport, USA. "What. The. F—"

"You'd best hurry, son, it'll be off soon," the old man said.

I glance over to see him starting to pack up his newsstand. Then a newspaper headline catches my eye: "NEW LEADS IN HUNT FOR SIRIUS BLACK!" it says in big, bold, block lettering. The subtitle says "RESPONSIBLE FOR QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP SCARE?" The picture, sure enough, is the same one from the third movie with Sirius apparently screaming like a madman.

Holy shit, it's 1994 in the Potterverse! The Triwizard Tournament! But in 1994... Suddenly the reason my clothes seemed off hit me: I'm younger! I'm still a teenager, so the timing doesn't really work out, but I definitely lost a couple years.

"C'mon, Hurry!" a shrill voice snaps me out of my daze, and I dash off awkwardly toward the train. I have to hold my pant legs up, and my shoes are a bit too big. I barely make it. As I trudge toward the back of the train, every compartment appears full. One of those pieces of fanfiction - though I can't remember which - conjectured that the train magically expands to only leave just enough room for everybody. Makes sense, really, since the last ones on the train tend to be the protagonists, and they pretty much always find only one compartment open.

"Did you get hit by a shrinking charm?" a familiar, melodious voice asks behind me.

I smile and turn to see the serene visage of Luna Lovegood, peering up at me with large gray eyes flecked with only the slightest hint of blue. "Or did my clothes get hit by an engorgement charm?"

She smiles back conspiratorially. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see."

"Say, do you think a wrackspurt might have gotten me? Is that why I can't seem to remember?"

Her already large, slate gray eyes widen. "Oh no! I _knew_ I should have convinced Daddy to let me take a pair of Spectrespecs! Let me get my notes!"

"It's okay, it'll wear off—and she's gone." I laugh and shake my head. Oh man, messing with Luna is going to be fun. I should probably feel bad about that thought.

Continuing down the train I spot the trio in one compartment, where Hermione is gesturing excitedly, no doubt explaining something in great detail while Ron looks bored but Harry actually looks interested. Suddenly an odd fact strikes me. Sirius looked exactly like he did in the movie, and so did Luna. And here was Hermione looking just like Emma Watson. Now, it's been a long time since I had my own pictures of the characters in my head, but Hermione wasn't really supposed to be attractive, was she?

I open the door to their compartment somewhat loudly to get their attention, Hermione stops mid-sentence to look at me, as do Harry and Ron.

"Mind if I sit here?" I ask, giving them my best smile. "Everywhere else seems to be full."

"Are you a Yank?" Ron asks, brows furrowed.

"Ronald Weasley, have you no manners? That's a pejorative!" Hermione says quickly with a furious frown.

"A wha—?" he asks dumbly.

I laugh. "No worries, no worries. You might use it as a pejorative, but it doesn't particularly bother me. Yes, I'm from the United States. Don't hold it against me."

That doesn't get much of a reaction, though Hermione generously turns the corners of her lips up at my joke. "I'm Hermione Granger, and you already know this gentleman with his foot in his mouth is Ron Weasley, and that's Harry—" she trails off.

"Harry Potter," the Daniel Radcliffe doppelganger says with a sigh.

He obviously doesn't like being introduced to strangers, so I smile and decide to throw them for a loop. "Hermione Granger, are you really?" I ask in my best star-struck voice. "I've heard so much about you!" I gush.

It has the intended effect of silencing the entirety of the cabin with open-mouthed stares. "What?" Hermione asked, being the first one to recover. "You...you have?"

"Uh, not really," I lie. "Sorry, I was just giving Harry a break."

They all look surprised, then Harry laughs and Hermione joins in with a chuckle. Ron gives a nervous laugh like he didn't get the joke, which he probably didn't.

"So you are...?" Hermione prods.

"Oh yeah, I'm...uh...oh!" I remember the letter in my bag. "Call me Bud. Bud A. Lerner," I say, trying to avoid thinking about how stupid my name is, I shake her hand gently and then offer mine to the others. "Nice to meet you."

"Yep, definitely a Yank name," Ron observes briefly before a solid smack to his shoulder causes him to cry out in indignation.

"Is there no filter between your brain and your mouth?" she asks angrily, then turns an apologetic look to me.

"No, it's okay, I fully agree," I assure them. It does sound like a redneck name...maybe I should come up with a better one. "Can't help our names, can we?"

I pull out the letter and hand it to Hermione.

"But this isn't even open!" she says incredulously.

"Oh yeah...oops."

"But how did you get here? How did you know what stuff to get?"

"Uh...oops again? I uh, kinda forgot and then I kinda accidentally ended up here this morning."

"How did you 'accidentally' end up on Platform Nine and Three Quarters?" she asks dubiously.

I scratch my head and squint my eyes as if I'm trying to remember. That's not too far off, really, since I don't know how this happened. "Well, I was just standing in an airport leaning against a pillar, and next thing I know I'm just sitting on the Platform."

She doesn't look like she believes me. "But what about your stuff?"

"Well, I've got my wand, but...uh...I don't have any money for the rest," I say sheepishly. I dig out my wallet and there's a ten dollar bill and a few ones. I'm not sure what the exchange rate is between dollars and pounds and galleons, but I figure it can't be much more than a galleon. "This is all I've got," I say, showing them.

"What are those?" Ron asks.

"American dollars, of course," Hermione says, then looks up at me sadly. "Well you're a bit taller than Ron...Ron, do you have any spare robes?"

"Not really, my other two are too small even for me...oh wait," he says with a grimace. He digs out his hideous dress robes that would only not look out of place on a vampire in the 18th century. "Mum packed these awful things..."

Just then the door slides open to reveal a platinum blonde-haired boy with a pointy face twisted into a sneer. "What ridiculous robes, Weasley! Were those your great-grandfather's?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry snaps.

I decide to jump in. "Did you say _Malfoy_? As in _Draco Malfoy_? Are you really? Oh, Mr. Malfoy, I've heard so much about you! Can I have your autograph? I know I must have something around here..."

He looks surprised for a moment, then takes in my state of dress and smiles imperiously. "Well, at least some peasants around here seem to know their place." Then he notices Hermione snickering, and a scowl formed. "What's so funny, _mudblood_?"

"He's not a peasant, you ponce," Harry says angrily.

"Look at him," Draco says, gesturing toward me. "He dresses worse than Weasley!"

"I'll have you know my grandfather is Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, the most feared Dark Lord in United States history! You might want to take that back." I fix a glare in his direction, trying to avoid breaking out into a grin.

Hermione chokes out a laugh and I have to bite my lip to fight to keep the smile off my face. Draco looks uncertain for a moment, then turns and angrily hisses at Hermione, "_what's so funny?_"

"Oh, I think you've got something in your hair," I say, waving my hand in his direction. I feel an odd rush flowing from my stomach, up my chest, and through my arm. Much to my surprise, a pink blob appears entangled in his hair.

"Wha—" he begins, hand darting to his hair. "What is it?" he screeches in a high-pitched voice. "Get it out! Get it out!"

"Sorry, I don't know how to get bubble gum out of someone's hair. Maybe Ms. Granger knows?"

Draco squeals like a girl, pushes one of the big lugs behind him out of the way and runs up the train.

"That was brilliant, mate!" Ron says enthusiastically.

"Did you _conjure_ that gum _silently_?" Hermione says, astonished. "That's really advanced magic! What year are you in?"

"Uh..." I shrug and point at the letter. "Open it."

She looks torn between asking me about my accidental conjuration and opening my letter. Hermione probably lives for Hogwarts letters. "Are you sure?"

"Sure, no big deal, I'm sure there's nothing personal in there, right?"

"Okay...it says, 'Dear Mr. Lerner, we are pleased to inform you that your transfer application has been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Based on your age and transcripts we have placed you in your _Fourth Year_?!' _You're a Fourth Year?_" Hermione asks incredulously. I shrug. Last I checked I'm a a couple years older than fourteen, but I guess not, here in the Potterverse. "'And you will be Sorted with the First Years upon your arrival. Please find enclosed a list of materials for required classes and possible electives, and please be prepared to discuss your electives upon arrival.' This is incredible, you're in our year!"

"Well I'm glad I found your compartment, then," I reply with a smile.

"What about your electives?" Hermione asks, leaning forward, eyes lighting up.

"Oh boy, here we go," Ron mutters.

"Ah, I'm thinking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, for sure. I have to take two, right?"

Hermione's widen even further and she breaks out into a dazzling smile. "Great! I'm in those, too! You know you can take more than two if you want."

"You realize those are the most difficult ones, right?" Ron asks with a groan.

"You should take Care of Magical Creatures, too. It's really interesting – I got to fly a Hippogriff last year!" Harry says excitedly "And the professor, Hagrid, is a good friend."

I smile. "Well I don't want to load up too much, but I think I could swing that."

"You can...you can borrow my books when you need them," Hermione says, but she looks a bit ill at the thought. "But about your robes..."

"Neville's sprouted up quite a bit, hasn't he?" Harry offers.

"That's right! I'll go ask him," Hermione says, taking off before I can object.

"So do you play Quidditch?" Ron asks.

Damn, I'm really going to have to come up with a good back story. Then it hits me: I've read Harry Potter fanfiction set in the United States! "Nah, it's actually not as popular over in the States as it is here," I say.

"Really? But...but...but why?" Ron blubbers. I think he's going to cry.

"I dunno, Quodpot is more popular there. It's like with Muggle sports, your Muggles like soccer - or football, as they call it here, and ours like American football. I never really got into it, though. Quodpot, I mean. I'm pretty awful when it comes to riding a broom." That's a guess, but a likely one. "And the thought of getting caught holding the Quod - what you guys call the Quaffle - when it explodes never really appealed to me."

"That's too bad, Harry here is a brilliant Seeker - he's been Gryffindor's since his First Year! Now that Wood's gone I'm thinking of going for Keeper..." Ron then began a lively monologue about Gryffindor's chances for the House Cup, potential new players, and the advantages of different brooms over the school's.

"Bothering him with Quidditch talk already?" Hermione says, sliding back into the compartment with a large black robe over her shoulder.

"What's wrong with that?" Ron asked in an annoyed tone. "Just getting him caught up on our chances for the House Cup is all."

"You realize he isn't even Sorted, yet? He might not even be with us in Gryffindor!"

Ron coughs in surprise and then looks ill. "You...you won't spill our secrets, will you?"

I laugh. "Of course not, I doubt I could even repeat most of the stuff you said, since I don't know anybody you were talking about," I lie. "So you guys are all in Gryffindor?"

They nod. "You know about the Four Houses, right?" Hermione asks.

"Gryffindor bravery, Hufflepuff loyalty, Ravenclaw wisdom, and Slytherin ambition."

"That's...compact yet insightful," Hermione says in surprise. "Which one do you think you'll be in?"

"Slytherin, definitely," I say with conviction, and watch their faces pale. My face twitches and I burst out laughing. "Sorry, couldn't say that with a straight face. I don't know which House, do I get a say?"

"Oh, well there's an enchanted hat that sort of evaluates your personality..." she begins, but trails off. "Actually, I don't think you're supposed to know more than that before you're Sorted." She looked over at him. "How did you get Sorted at your old school? Where _did_ you go to school over there?"

"I went to—" I begin, but then I realize Hermione probably knows the names of them, and I wouldn't put it past her to dig around looking into my past. Should I say Salem, since I know it exists in canon? Or should I go ahead and use the non-canonical school I first thought about and hope she never figures it out? I frown in thought.

"You...can't say it, can you?" Hermione asks. "We found out about this last year, right Harry? It must be a Fidelius Charm!"

I love you, Hermione. "I guess so...I mean it was right there on the tip of my tongue but..."

"Don't worry about it, you can't tell us if you're not the Secret Keeper. So what can you tell us?"

"Uh, well we weren't actually separated into Houses or anything. I guess there weren't enough of us. My Alchemy professor, or Potions as you guys call it, was a huge jerk, and so was the Dean. She would be called the Headmistress here." Damn, it's been too long since I read that series, I can't remember anything else. "Oh! I thought the janitor was pretty cool, though he turned out to be a bad guy in the end."

"Well we can relate to having a complete git of a Potions professor," Ron mutters.

"But the janitor? Is that why you left?" Hermione asks.

Uh, sure! "Yeah..." I say, acting like it was some painful memory.

"So is your grandfather really a Grand Chancellor or whatever?" Ron asks, trying to break the awkward silence.

Hermione giggles, "No, Ron, that's from an American Muggle movie."

Ron looks confused. I get the sense he looks that way a lot. "What?"

"I was messing with him," I say with a smile. "I've dealt with bullies like him before, you just gotta keep them off balance, not let them get to you."

"Well it was bloody brilliant, I say," Harry, interjects.

"Yeah, I doubt you'll end up in Slytherin, though it might be funny to know you're messing with him all the time," Ron says.

"Well you stood up to Malfoy, which means you'd likely fit in as a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff, but you also silently conjured that bubble gum, which by the way is probably NEWT-level spellwork, so you'd probably fit in as a Ravenclaw, too," Hermione says, thinking out loud.

"Well, what about what I want?"

"Well...you'll see soon enough," Hermione says, waving off the question. "I wonder if you'll ride the boats with the First Years or the carriages with the rest of us? Probably the boats, since they take those to let the rest of us get there first."

"Does she think out loud all the time?" I whisper to Harry.

"Best to let her finish when she does," he says with a smile. "She might get angry."

"Anyway, we should change. Here's a spare set of Neville's, he's another Gryffindor."

* * *

Turns out I had to ride the boats in the pouring rain. So that was fun, though at least I got to meet Hagrid. I wondered how that was going to work out with the camera tricks and all, but turns out he really is an enormous Robbie Coltrane. I tell him I sat with Harry, Ron, and Hermione so he immediately takes a liking to me.

So here I stand amongst a throng of sopping wet, diminutive First Years.

"Are you...are you related to that guy?" one asks in a high-pitched squeak. "You're both huge!" I'm surprised to see that it's a boy. Or at least appears to be.

"No, I just ate a couple other First Years on the way here," I say in my deepest voice.

Several of them snicker, but more of them back away even further.

I sigh. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I'm a Fourth Year transferring from the United States, and since I don't have a House, I'm gonna be Sorted with you." I look at the frightened boy who asked the question. "Which House do you think you'll be in?"

"G-Gryffindor I hope...my brother's there..."

Some kids laughed. "Did you forget you have to be brave for that?"

The boy's face turns beet red, so I feel I need to say something to make it up to him.

"Bravery doesn't mean fearlessness. And ganging up on somebody isn't brave either. In fact, being brave means being afraid to do something, but doing it anyway." Wow, I'm pretty terrible at talking to kids, that sounded pretty condescending. Even though the whispers don't stop, the little boy stands up straighter after that, which makes me feel better about scaring most of them.

"First years," a clear, Scottish-accented voice rings out, "you may come with me now to be Sorted." Her gaze snaps to me. "Mr. Lerner, as a transfer you will be Sorted last." She spins briskly around and enters the Great Hall.

As we enter I gawk just as much as the First Years at the floating candles, the stormy ceiling reflecting the weather outside, and just the general sensation of being in such a magical place. Maybe I'm just projecting, but it seems like I _feel_ the magic thrumming all around me, and I can almost hear it underneath the din of hurried, post-vacation, catch-up conversations. Sure I'd seen this on a screen before, but it is pretty damn impressive in person.

Some movement in my peripheral vision draws my eyes to the table next to me, where Hermione waves at me with a brilliant smile. I can't help but return both gestures, with a nod toward Harry and Ron. A glance to the other side and I see Draco glaring at me, as if I was the one who put gum in his hair. I guess I did, but he shouldn't know that, and I didn't mean to do it. Oh well.

"Creevy, Dennis," Professor McGonagall announces, and the squeaky boy from earlier climbs the steps toward the Sorting Hat.

Ah, that makes sense now.

I don't recognize any of the other names, and before I know it, Professor McGonagall has stopped calling names, and I'm standing there alone with whispers starting to spring up around me. I look at her, but she is looking up at the head table. I follow her gaze to find Professor Dumbledore apparently studying me intently. Suddenly it hits me: I'm about to go under the Sorting Hat, who is going to be in my head. It's going to find out what I know! And Dumbledore's eyes are on mine, too. _Legilimency_! _He wouldn't use it on me, would he_? I look away, just in case, back to the Sorting Hat, and then back to McGonagall.

I avoid looking back at the headmaster, and I'm relieved when he continues the Sorting a moment later. With a scrape of his chair, the aged headmaster silences the Hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we welcome the first of several opportunities this coming year to comport ourselves admirably in front of outsiders. Mr. Lerner here has transferred to Hogwarts, and shall be joining the Fourth Years upon his Sorting. Professor McGonagall, if you please."

"Lerner, Bud," she says, inviting me to the stool as she had all First Years.

I try not to wince at the awful name; it helps that I'm terrified of what the Hat will see. He does claim to keep what he learns a secret, but seeing as how the damned thing _talks_...how hard would it be for Dumbledore to get a secret this big out of it? I swallow roughly and make my way forward in the silence of the Great Hall. I imagine the Hat being placed on my head and spilling my secrets, but then a mildly comforting thought occurs to me. Who would believe a hat about me? McGonagall would probably set it on fire.

With a bit more confidence I turn and seat myself facing the crowd. "Oof..." I flop down a little harder than I mean to, because the stool is so low to the ground. The display elicits a few scattered laughs, and I feel my face flush in embarrassment but smile through it.

"Well, what do we have here, a dimensional traveller, eh? What's this? Oh...OH! Oh my, this is quite interesting. A fictional character in a fictional universe, am I? And what is..."

Suddenly the Hat starts laughing hysterically. And I mean _hysterically_. Not just in my head, either...I can hear it laughing externally as well. It's such a contagious laugh I can't help but chuckle myself.

"Oh my," it says when it finally calms down. "Oh my, that is delectable. I wish there were more stories about me in your head like that, though surely you realize as an enchanted article of clothing I am neither male nor female? Oh well, in any case...I must dutifully Sort you, but I suppose you know where you're going? Thought so. Before you go, I feel I must point out that, without the delicious memories you have of our entire existence, you'd have probably been Sorted into Ravenclaw. No? Well, some of your misgivings about me are quite unfounded – yes, several pieces of fanfiction have indeed gotten that right: I am quite unable to share what I've learned, even if I tried. Not even the headmaster can wheedle information about students out of me, and he _has_ certainly tried. But your other misgivings are not. Yes, I suspect either one of the two Legilimency masters at this school could pick this information from you, even with your current abilities at Occlumency, though I'm not entirely certain they would maintain their sanity. Yes, I suggest you work on that, though it will be difficult without a Legilimens. Also, I see the canonical future, which I assume you're going to change? Yes, I see the terrible things that would have transpired had you not appeared, and I don't disagree that it could be better. But I must implore you to be careful, Mr. 'Lerner' – yes, I see your real name. But think about this: _what if you make it worse?_"

The hat finally pauses and the message sinks in. Oh. Shit.

"Right then. GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

A/N:

Bit of a short chapter to start, but rest assured this is an anomaly. I shoot for at least 5k+ words per chapter, not counting disclaimers and author's notes, but that's not a hard and fast rule. This just seemed like a natural stopping point. I am averaging just over 6k words per chapter.

The fanfiction I'm referring to when I talk about the school in the United States is Inverarity's _Alexandra Quick_ series. That was one of my first pieces of fanfiction, so I'm being totally honest when I say I don't remember much about it. And since 'I' fell into the Harry Potter universe, that would be realistic. The only time I will look up facts is when I'm describing something from canon that I don't remember off the top of my head (which will be often, true enough).

Despite the Sorting Hat's reaction, I have in fact never read any fanfiction in which the Sorting Hat is involved in sexual situations. Although suddenly I have an idea for another story...

If you find any errors, be they spelling, grammatical, logical, canonical, temporal, or otherwise, let me know! That includes past/present tense mistakes as well: unless one of the characters is talking about the past or I'm recapping, everything is supposed to be in the present tense. Maybe that's kind of odd, but I like the way it reads for first-person stories since it makes it seem like you're there. I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to those things, so don't be afraid to call me names when I mess something up – as long as you're explicit about what it is I messed up in the process. Also, regarding those Americanisms I brought up in the preface: if you see any non-PoV characters using them in what seems like an unusual way, that is most likely a mistake, so call me out on it. Although, if you've ever met a foreign exchange student, you might know that they often exchange words or sayings.

Let me know what you think!

One reviewer pointed out the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine did not exist in 1994; it was only through Episode I in 1999 that we learned his previous title. Oops! Hermione must have just assumed I made up a political position to firm up my fake fake back story (as opposed to my real fake backstory...you'll see). So maybe five years from this point Hermione will think it's fishy.


	2. Chapter 2: Let the Changes Begin

Disclaimer: If JK Rowling owned me in real life, I'd be quite well off. Unfortunately she only owns the me in this story.

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**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Two: Let the Changes Begin**

"It's brilliant that you're with us, mate," Ron says when I join them at the Gryffindor table, after Dumbledore's pre-meal speech is out-of-the-way and the food appears. "But that Hat went completely nutters there for a minute."

"What did you do?" Hermione asks.

I smile. "I told it a joke, or rather, I thought of a joke and it picked it from my brain."

"You didn't!" Hermione says, aghast. I smile wider. "You can't do that! It's a...it's a—"

"What's this?" A voice to my right asks.

"A prankster arrives and dares challenge us?" A second voice, identical to the first, asks from my left. I don't even need to look to know it's the currently Sixth Year Weasley twins.

"Not even Fred and George got that much of a reaction," a third, feminine voice cut in. Angelina Johnson or Alicia Spinnet, I figure. Were they even different in the books?

"Challenge accepted!" the twins say together.

Ah, hell, now I've done it.

"My brothers, Fred and George," Ron says in introduction, waving a half-eaten roll in their general vicinity and spraying everybody with crumbs.

"Unfortunately," they both say. They really must practice the unison thing, though I get the sense they lament certain relatives often, too.

"So, did I miss anything or am I up by one for the year?" I ask with a smile.

Fred and George rear up as if slapped, and a sizable radius of students bursts into laughter.

"Making the Hat go barmy? Fair first try, I admit—" Fred says. Or maybe it was George.

"—but not good enough to keep up with us," says the other.

Hermione scoffs and shakes her head. "Boys!"

After a bit more playful boasting on their part, punctuated by various stories of previous pranks, I realize I'm starving and dig in to the food. In short order Dumbledore is back up at the podium. I remember what's coming, now.

"So! Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices." My eyes go glassy as he goes on to list new forbidden items, repeats the warning of the Forbidden Forest, and reiterates that Hogsmeade is closed to First and Second Years. "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." I flinch away from Ron in time to avoid being sprayed with food. I'm distracted by whispered exclamations of disgust so I don't see another teacher enter the Hall.

"Ah yes, may I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody."

My blood runs cold. Suddenly this doesn't feel much like fun and games anymore. Is that already an impostor? I think back to Goblet of Fire, which I've read at least three times, trying to remember if JKR hinted at it this early.

I'm jolted out of my reverie by an elbow to my ribs.

"You alright, mate?" Harry asks from across the table. Hermione, sitting next to him, looks concerned.

"Kinda spaced out there, mate," Ron says. "You thinking of entering, too, are you?"

The Triwizard Tournament? Hell, no! "No, of course not," I say. "I'd have to be crazy to want that."

"Good," Hermione says quickly, turning a glare on Ron. "You know you aren't going to outsmart Dumbledore, why even bother thinking about it?"

"For a thousand galleons? Of course I'd try it!" Ron says hotly.

"I'm interested to see what people try to get past it, but that's about it," I say. "I'm pretty sure Champions have died before. Probably has something to do with why they haven't held them for so long."

Ron pales at that, but still looks defiant. "Well I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen."

"That's the thing," I say seriously, thinking of Cedric. "Who's to say Dumbledore will be able to stop it?"

The table immediately around me falls silent.

I'm not paying much attention to my surroundings, so I jump a bit when Professor McGonagall breaks the quiet. "Mr. Lerner, would you come with me, please?"

I glance around, feeling a bit bad at sobering the mood, but Harry and Hermione both give me a reassuring nod.

Professor McGonagall and I make the walk in silence. She doesn't even glance back at me, so I simply fall into step behind her until, after a surprisingly brief trip, we reach the gargoyle. It looks completely stationary until she mutters what I assume is the password, and the gargoyle moves with surprising alacrity and a distinct lack of the grinding I subconsciously expected. The wizened Headmaster is waiting in front of his desk with a pleasant smile.

"Welcome, welcome, Mr. Lerner. I trust you had a good trip?"

I don't know how much he knows already, or what exactly the transcript mentioned in my letter entails considering I have no recollection of applying, so I simply nod.

"Well, we have several things to discuss, so let's get right to it, shall we? But first I must admit some curiosity. It seems odd to worry about the sanity of an ancient, semi-sentient Hat, Mr. Lerner, yet I must confess I was quite concerned there for a few minutes," Professor Dumbledore says smiling. "What exactly did you do?"

"I told it a joke, I guess. To be more precise, I thought of a joke and the Hat saw it in my head."

"Indeed? I'm sure that wasn't the first time that has occurred though."

I think about what the Hat said about being neither male nor female. "Uh...well I suspect the Hat doesn't find itself on many fourteen-year-olds, right?"

"Are you suggesting the Hat prefers lewd humor?" McGonagall asks sternly.

Yikes, that's way scarier than in the movies. "Sorry, ma'am," I say with a blush.

"Not to worry, Mr. Lerner, not to worry," Dumbledore cut in jovially. "I'm sure it wasn't completely intentional. In fact I might have to try that myself...I just heard this one about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar—"

"_Albus_."

"Er, ahem, right, anyway...now, I think next up on the agenda: since you're in Professor McGonagall's House, we can talk about your electives. Have you given it any thought?"

"Yes sir, I was thinking Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures."

"Three you say? Very nice, very nice. Did you have any questions about them, or your decision? I must say catching up in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy may prove difficult, since they tend to build on previous lessons, though there is a review period at the beginning of each year."

"No questions at the moment, though if I'm lost I'll be sure to notify the professor. The only thing I don't know about is how I'm going to get my books and other supplies. I don't have any money except a few American dollars."

"Indeed? That is most unusual. Your tuition has been paid or else you wouldn't be here. What about your parents?"

I shrug, "Muggles. I haven't spoken to them in a long time." I try to hide the emotion in my voice, but I don't think I could stop the wavering at first. It's only been a few days, but I have a feeling it'll be a long time before I get another chance. Damn, I wonder what they think is going on? I can't very well send them a message from 1994!

"I'll look into it, Albus," Professor McGonagall says softly. Well, softly for her, which means a hint of mild concern breaking through her stern façade.

"Hermione Granger said I could borrow some of her books when I needed them, though she looked loathe to part with them," I say, smiling at the memory.

"I can imagine that would be the case," Dumbledore says, eyes twinkling. "It will be difficult, but you can get by without books. However, you'll certainly need other items. You have a wand, I take it?"

"I do," I say, pulling it out of my pocket and holding it out.

"Excellent, may I?" Dumbledore asks.

I nod and reach out to allow him to take it.

"Hmmm, most interesting. I don't sense any of the so-called 'big three' cores that Ollivander uses, do you know the core and wood?"

I shake my head. "It...wasn't mine until recently." An entirely truthful statement, I am proud to note.

"I see. Unfortunately I am not well-versed enough in wandlore to have the skill to tell you anything further. But as long as you are okay with it?"

"Sure, I'd like to see a wandmaker at some point, but I might as well wait until I can afford it." I don't mention that I have no idea if I can actually use it. Was I even holding onto it when I conjured that gum? Is that even what happened? I mean, I did feel that rush...

The two adults are silent, and a question strikes me. "Do you offer wandmaking classes or seminars here?"

"We do not," Professor McGonagall says. "That remains an apprenticeship-oriented skill. It takes a great deal of practice and even more failures to become proficient enough to construct a usable wand, Mr. Lerner."

"I see." So much for those damn fanfics that make it seem so easy. "I don't suppose there is a way to earn some spending money for my supplies?"

"You must remain on castle grounds, Mr. Lerner, so even part-time jobs at Hogsmeade are out," Professor McGonagall says, her voice softening ever so slightly each time she speaks. "However, the teachers have been known to take on student workers, like yourself, that want to earn a bit of money." Then she adds with a smile, "at least, when we can't fill their needs with students serving detention."

"Indeed, and with the Triwizard Tournament coming up, the Ministry may be interested in having student helpers, or perhaps the delegations from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons might be interested in assistants." Dumbledore adds.

"Now that would be interesting," I admit. "I'll ask my Professors first, though, since the Tournament won't be starting until later this year. I'd rather not put any of my fellow students out any longer than needed."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about the necessities, Mr. Lerner," Professor McGonagall says. "And remember I still have to check on the source of your tuition; it may be they've left enough for all your supplies as well. But some part-time work can be useful, as long as it doesn't interfere with your classwork. Now go ahead and return to the Great Hall, you should catch the Prefects taking the First Years for the brief tour before returning to the common room."

"Thank you, Professors," I say, standing up and beginning to turn around, thinking it a dismissal.

"One more thing, Mr. Lerner," the headmaster says, so I sit back down. However, he doesn't speak right away, as if he's trying to figure out how to say something. His eyes are trained on mine, so I quickly pretend like something is stuck in my eye.

"Sorry, sir, you were saying...?"

"I merely wished to compliment your choice of companions. Ms. Granger is an excellent student and I expect shall be most helpful in getting you acclimated." He smiles in a grandfatherly way, but somehow I doubt that's what he wanted to say.

"Thank you, sir, she has already been very helpful on the train."

That gets a warm smile even from Professor McGonagall. "Indeed. Once again, welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Lerner, you may go."

"Thank you, Professors," I say again, except this time I'm allowed to exit.

I really don't know what to expect with this mysterious benefactor that paid my tuition, but I can't count on scoring any money that way. What skills do I have that I can use for money? I could use my knowledge of gambling to set up Triwizard betting pools, but I'd need to know people with money. I wonder if the wizarding world has ever heard of point spreads and point-shaving?

That's probably not very Gryffindor-like thinking, and with no Quidditch I'd have to convince Harry to do the point-shaving. Somehow I don't think that's going to work.

I could use my knowledge of the future, but I'd need money to actually gamble with, and since I'm here, there's no telling if the future I know will be intact. Hell, I'm already planning on making Cedric stay alive somehow. Plus, I'd need a respectable bookie. If I went up to Malfoy and bet that Harry Potter was going to be a Triwizard Champion, he'd take that bet, but he wouldn't pay up.

I shake my head. _Bad Gryffindor_! I blame it on Barty Crouch souring my mood.

Ah well, I guess I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way. I'm still in a foul mood, but I have to remember the world of wonders in which I suddenly find myself. Working for a professor in a school of magic can't possibly be dull, could it? I mean, it's a school of _magic_ for Merlin's sake!

Well that sounds like some awful foreshadowing, so I'm sure I will regret those thoughts before long.

* * *

"So what'd Dumbledore and McGonagall want?" Ron says, then, "Ow! What was that for?"

"It's none of our business, that's what! Sorry," Hermione says, giving me her apologetic face.

"You coming?" Harry asks.

"Ah, I was going to follow the Prefects and First Years for the tour," I say, nodding to the cluster of Gryffindors. "I can just meet you up in the common room if you like. They have to tell me which room I'm in, after all."

"You sure? I'm sure we could show you around," Hermione offers.

"Plenty of time for that later, right?" I say with a smile. "I know I won't remember where I'm going after just one look." It's true, the Hogwarts interior isn't very well documented in canon, and I have a few dozen imaginary additions and modifications from a pile of fanfiction bouncing around in my head. "You guys go ahead, I'm sure you three have more catching up to do without me tagging along, being a bother."

All three look surprised at this. I wonder if I'm already 'in' with their little group, perhaps because of the stunt with Draco. They haven't told me any of their secrets, but then, it's only been a day, and I get the impression they're thinking about it now. And here I figured Hermione pestered them to wait around for me.

I hear the throng of First Years moving out so I head out. "See ya," I say, waving.

"Do you guys understand when he says some of those things?" Ron asks well before I get out of earshot. Apparently he has not yet figured out how to keep his voice down. "Odd Yank phrases I guess—ow! Hermione!"

I listen to the Prefect drone on for a bit, but it isn't long before I tune him out and resume gawking at everything in sight. Every time I see a large portrait I have to wonder if there isn't a room hidden behind it. I really wonder how people get used to this. I don't really recognize anything from the movies until we hit some moving staircases with portraits packed up and down the walls. I realize we must be getting near Gryffindor Tower, and I start to listen in again just in time.

"—password is Balderdash. Once we're in the common room, First Years, you'll wait around to be taken to your dorms when you're called by a prefect." His eyes catch mine. "Lerner, you're with me."

I nod and follow him into the common room once the First Years file in.

"The girls staircase is enchanted," he says, gesturing to the one across the common room. "I don't recommend attempting to climb it...the girls tend to know when it happens; they all come out and see."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say. I can't remember if that's actually been proven in canon; one piece of fanfiction I read recently said that the enchantment wore off ages ago but no male is stupid enough to test it. Although, this guy sounds like he knows from experience.

We climb the stairs to the boys dorms and immediately open the door to one surprisingly near the common room.

"Excellent, so you're with us then?" Harry's voice brings me up short as I entered the dorm.

Well, that certainly works out. But...I glance around and then look back in surprise. "Was there always a sixth bed here?"

Harry furrowed his brow, as if he didn't remember either.

Ron looked just as perplexed. "Maybe the room expanded?"

"I'll leave you to it then, Lerner; I've got to get back to the First Years. Let me or one of the other Prefects know if you need anything."

"Well, he was certainly a ray of sunshine," I say a few moments after the Prefect leaves.

"I guess you know which one's yours?" Harry asks, gesturing to the beds.

Sure enough, my tiny backpack lay neatly on the foot of the bed. I feel a tug in my chest at the sight of just about everything I own, looking so tiny even on the single bed. Not even the robes I'm wearing are mine. "Yep," I say, failing to keep the emotion out of my voice as I flop on the bed with my arms behind my head. "All set."

My two roommates are silent, but I don't want to look them in the face. Harry knows how I feel the most, though he's got money by now. Ron knows a little as well, though at least he's got family.

I'm thankful that my sudden bout of loneliness and self-pity is interrupted by our other three roommates.

"Hey, Harry, Ron, how was your—" Neville begins trailing off when he spots me.

"Neville, right?" I say, putting on my jovial face. "I'm Lerner, Bud Lerner. Thanks for the robes, man," my smile falters when my eyes flicker to my backpack. "I'll, um, get them back to you soon as I can."

Neville catches the flicker and he frowns for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Keep them, I've still got my backup set."

Ron coughs to break the awkward silence. "Right then, Bud, these other two are Seamus and Dean," he says, then turns to the two newcomers that I also recognize from the movie. "This is Bud, decent bloke for a Yank; conjured some gum into Malfoy's hair on the train, after all."

Neville joins Dean and Seamus in looking surprised, as he hadn't heard about that either. Harry winces a bit at Ron's continued use of Yank, but joins in the chuckling, too.

"Did you?" Seamus says, his heavy Irish accent mangling even a pair of words. I decide to avoid speaking to him as much as possible to reduce the incidence of headaches.

"Had it coming, I bet," Dean adds.

"It was an accident, I swear," I say, holding up my hands. "I didn't see any divots in his hair so I assume he got it out fine, or it disappeared eventually."

"Still bloody brilliant," Ron says, "you should have heard Malfoy scream like a girl!"

Ron's impression of Draco's girlish scream spurs a round of laughter, but I don't join in quite so heartily. After all, that was my first bit of magic, and I can't recall if I was actually touching my wand. My hand brushes against my e-reader-turned-wand, wondering if it even works. After all, Dumbledore said something about not sensing one of the three cores? I know Ollivander only uses dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, and phoenix feather, so either it's something else, or nothing at all. After all, it was simply an electronic device a few days ago, wasn't it?

The five long-time roommates exchange further pleasantries and I answer a couple vague questions about the United States. Thankfully they're male and therefore don't press on any of them, instead turning to describing their own summers.

"Well, I'm going to let you guys catch up," I say, "I need to talk to Hermione."

Harry and Ron look like they want to come, but I wave them off. Harry gives me a nod and Ron frowns a bit, but they return to their roommates. Unfortunately for me, Hermione's not in the common room, so I plant myself in one of the comfy chairs in the large, circular common room and lean back to wait and think.

I was going to ask Hermione to help me, but now that I'm sitting here, I figure I should probably try to hide myself away and figure out exactly what I can do with magic, first. She'd almost certainly get suspicious if I ask her to go over First Year spells. Obviously I wouldn't be here if I couldn't do it, not to mention the possibly wandless, non-verbal conjuration incident on the train. And didn't the Hat say I have a bit of Occlumency, as well? I want to try out some stuff now, but the common room is still full of upper year students chatting with members of the opposite sex. I suppose this would be the best place to do that. Chat with girls, I mean, not experiment with magic.

I let my thoughts drift towards the surreality of the situation, wondering how I got here, what my parents were doing, what was going to happen with me here. I think of the impostor Moody and the best way to thwart him. I wonder if I'll be able to convince Harry not to let Cedric take the Cup. Cedric was, sadly, merely a nuisance to Voldemort, so it won't change anything on that front. It'll be a damn sight better for Cedric himself, of course, not to mention eliminating Amos Diggory's sorrow, and maybe Cho Chang's. What, if anything, should I do about Harry's thing for Cho, anyway? JK Rowling went to pretty silly lengths to show that Ginny is supposedly better for him than Cho, but that doesn't really matter here. I think about Hermione, and I wonder how she would take it if she found out about me. How would she react? She would probably think I'm insane, though I might convince her to let me take Veritaserum. But she would probably still disbelieve me, especially if I tell her she ended up with Ron. Who in their right mind would see that coming?

A light touch on my shoulder jolts me from my ruminations, and I realize the common room is nearly empty.

"You coming up to bed, mate?" Harry asks. "Thought you were asleep there for a moment."

"Yeah, just thinking," I say.

"Yeah, fire's good for that," he says, turning his own gaze to it for a few moments. Then he shakes his head as if to clear it. "Anyway, just letting you know that we're getting ready to turn in."

"Thanks, be there in a minute."

* * *

In the morning I'm pleasantly surprised to find the clothes in my backpack are freshly laundered, so I can take a shower and put on clean boxers. I'm surprised at how much brighter the day seems after I find out I don't have to wear dirty underwear.

I pull Ron aside on the way to breakfast. "Hey, do you know how much a new set of robes are?"

He looks surprised at first, then frowns. "I wouldn't know," he says a bit testily, then turns glum. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. Usually when somebody asks me about clothes...well, you know. Mine are all hand-me-downs." Then his eyes light up. "Hey, I could owl Mum and get the next size up from Bill's closet! I probably wouldn't get those until next year. Well, that is, if you wouldn't mind."

I look away, touched by the gesture. Maybe I was unfair to Ron before, even though he just blasted through several emotions in the matter of five seconds. "That'd be great, but couldn't you use them? I mean, you said yourself your other two sets are smaller than the ones you've got now."

He shrugs. "I don't mind. You can just borrow them until you get your own, if you want. Any idea how you're going to pull that off?"

"I asked Dumbledore and McGonagall, and they said sometimes teachers take on assistants. I figure that wouldn't be so bad until the Tournament starts. They said the Ministry might take on student helpers for that."

"That'd be wicked! We should try to do that together!" There he goes again, forgetting the internal volume button.

"Making plans without us already?" Hermione stops and turns with Harry towards us, eyebrow raised.

"Nah, not really," Ron says, in a complete failure of an attempt to be nonchalant.

"Come on, let's hear it then," Hermione says, a bit of her bossiness coming out.

"It's nothing, really," Ron answers, fairly embarrassed.

"We were just talking about getting a part-time job," I say in an attempt to save Ron, but instead he looks at me with a startled, betrayed look.

"What about classes?"

Ron gives me a pleading look, so I shrug. "We'll keep up."

Hermione puts on a look I would later identify as her expression of insatiable curiosity. "And what would this job be?"

"Well..." Ron must have recognized that look, because he sighs and lets his shoulders droop in defeat. "He said that Dumbledore said that the Ministry might hire some student helpers for the Tournament..."

"That'd be brilliant!" Harry exclaims.

"Yeah, we should all do it, I'd love to—what?" Hermione says, stopping at Ron's scowl which turns in my direction. He continues to scowl, obviously waiting for me to explain.

I sigh. "Look, don't take this the wrong way, it might be fun to do it together, but I'm not even sure there will be any jobs like that, anyway. So if there aren't that many jobs, I...well, Ron and I...we could really use the money..."

The other two flush in embarrassment. "Oh...sorry..." Hermione says.

I shrug. "It's no big deal. Maybe Dumbledore will convince the Ministry to find enough for all of us."

"Look, I can ask Dumbledore if I can get into Gring—"

"No, Harry...you know I won't let you do that," Ron says sternly.

"But you know I don't care about—"

"Harry," I say. "I appreciate the offer, but it wouldn't feel right. Money gets between friends all the time. I'd feel like I'd have to pay you back..."

"But you wouldn't need to."

"Exactly!" I say. "Even without loans and such, money drives people apart, Ron knows that, and I won't have it." I give a tug at Neville's robes. "Borrowing something is different, and I'm grateful you guys are hooking me up with books and robes and such. I already feel like I owe you big time for that. But money is a different thing altogether."

The four of us walk to the Great Hall in an uncomfortable silence after that and begin eating.

"Hermione," I say, breaking the silence when I'm finished.

Her head jerks up from the book she carried with her and started reading several minutes earlier.

"Do you know where the R—" I stop, realizing that this is Fourth Year – they don't discover the Room of Requirement until Fifth Year. That means nobody knows about it except me. _Yeah, that wouldn't look suspicious at all._ I clear my throat to stall a moment. "How do I...how many floors does the big staircase out there go up?" I ask, gesturing toward the staircase outside the Great Hall.

"That one goes all the way up to the seventh floor, which is the highest you'll get without entering one of the towers. If you follow the corridor around you'll find an entrance to the stairs in the Astronomy Tower on the other side of the quad. Why?"

Excellent. "I didn't catch much of the tour...too busy gawking and all," I say with a shrug. "It looked like it went up pretty high. Where's the nearest restroom?"

"The loo? There's a boy's one just off the same staircase on the second floor."

"Thanks," I say, smiling at her obvious enjoyment being able to act like a mini-Prefect. She smiles back happily. "So what are you three up to today?"

"I figured we'd go have a chat with Hagrid," Harry suggests.

"I thought we'd go to the library," Hermione says, eliciting a groan from Ron which triggers an eye roll. "Honestly Ron, this is his first year here, so he might need to catch up on some things."

I smile at her inclusion of me. "I'd love to take you up on that, Hermione, in fact I know I will." Her eyes light up, but momentarily dim back down as I continue, "but I've got something to take care of today, and I need to see McGonagall about something we talked about last night. I wouldn't mind holing up in the library tomorrow and Sunday, though."

Her smile comes back. "That would be great!"

At the same time Ron makes a face like it would be anything but.

"We could just go flying instead, right Ron?" Harry offers.

This swaps the faces of disgust and happiness, and I jump in before Hermione has a chance to scold them.

"Not all day, I'm sure," I say, which placates Hermione, then I shoot her an exaggerated sad face with my bottom lip sticking out. "My company isn't that bad, is it?" I think I even make my lip to quiver a bit.

She flushes with embarrassment. "N-No, of course not, that's not what I—"

I can't stop my face from cracking into a smile.

"Oh, you..." she lifts her hand up as if to smack my shoulder but catches herself before she can.

"Violent, that one is," Ron mutters, which earns him the patented Hermione glare through her blush.

I laugh. "Well I have to use the restr—the loo. I'll catch you guys sometime later. Lunch, maybe?"

Pleased that I managed to escape without arousing too much suspicion, I immediately set out for the Room of Requirement, continuing right past the second floor. Unfortunately for me, these floors are not my familiar ten-foot stories, so I'm pretty winded when I reach the top of the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye I see somebody down the corridor walking toward me, but since I'm too tired to chat I just walk over to a window and lean against the sill to catch my breath. I sweat a bit more than the climb would warrant, since now I'm worried about being discovered when I'm opening or leaving the Room. Damn, I wish I had my own Marauder's Map.

"Hello again," a sing-song voice says.

I smile as I realize who it must have been. "Hello there," I say, glancing at Luna. "Sorry about the train, you took off before I could tell you my it was a joke. My clothes were just too big."

She smiles at me. "That's okay, I couldn't find my notes anyway." Then she turns her face to the window, so I do the same. "Nice view from up here, is it not?" A soft and peaceful face framed by long, dirty blonde hair appears quite close to my shoulder. I glance at her again, and my eyes flicker down to her feet to verify that, as expected, she isn't wearing any shoes. Thankfully it's a pleasantly warm morning, so the stone can't be too uncomfortable for her.

I turn back to the window to see the late summer morning sun reflecting on the lake, and my eyes follow the dense forests and farmland toward the horizon. "It is beautiful," I agree in a whisper. It reminds me of home somehow, despite the fact that I'm on the seventh floor of a magical castle.

She stands next to me, gazing silently outward. Oddly, it's a companionable silence, and we maintain it for several minutes. Then it strikes me that we've never actually introduced ourselves.

"I'm...you can call me Bud, by the way," I say awkwardly.

"I could," she says, remaining silent for a few moments. Just as I breathe in to say something else, she cuts in. "Is that short for something?"

I have no idea, actually. "William," I say instead.

"May I call you William?"

I smile at that; it sounds good when she says it. "Somehow I don't think I'll be able to stop you."

"You would be correct, William."

"William it is, then."

Our conversation takes place entirely as she gazes out the window, though I sneak a few peaks at her serene face. She doesn't seem to notice, returning to her silent sky-gazing.

After some time a faint clanging jerks me out of my daze and I realize I should get going. I sigh, because I'd rather not. "May I know your name?" I ask finally.

"I like you," she says, still not turning away from the window. Any other girl might blush when saying that, but she doesn't. I get the feeling she means it exactly how she says it – no romantic undertones at all. "My name is Luna."

"I like you, too, Luna," I say in a voice that I hope sends the same message. "I'm glad we got to enjoy the view together. Maybe we can do it again some other day?"

"That sounds pleasant. Are you leaving now?"

"Unfortunately."

"Okay."

"See you around, Luna."

"Goodbye, William."

I walk away toward the nearest corner, glancing back to find Luna gone from the window. I didn't hear her go. Suddenly I feel bad for messing with her on the train. Shaking my head to clear the odd interaction from my mind, I come to the first corner, which looks quite familiar. I'm fairly sure it's the corner from the fifth movie, so I walk back and forth in front of the wall, keeping an image of a sort of half-library, half training area in my mind. After many circuits I open my eyes...

To a blank wall. Damn.

Crossing the stairwell to the next corner, I come across a moving tapestry depicting a man amidst a bunch of trolls in tutus of all things. Underneath is a plaque that mentions 'Barnabas the Barmy.' I don't remember the trolls, but that name sounds familiar! I fix the image in my mind once again, and after three laps I am rewarded with the groaning of a previously solid stone wall forming a door.

* * *

A/N:

So Dumbledore started to tell that joke during the post-feast speech, but 'I' wasn't listening so I added it here.

Also, September 1st, 1994 was a Thursday in real life, so in my story I deem that this is true and thus classes would not start until Monday. Canon, however, seems to suggest that September 1st was either a Sunday or a Monday (it is inconsistent), and that classes started the next day. Come on JKR, you can't have the students show up on September 1st every single year and always expect them to start the next day!

Also, I just made up what pieces of the castle layout are in here; I didn't try to match that with canon except for the Room of Requirement entrance in the seventh floor corridor. I actually didn't remember Barnabas the Barmy until several chapters from now...I had to come back and add him.

I'm quite pleased with the way Luna turned out in this chapter and in following chapters. I know it's extremely easy to overdo it with the imaginary creatures, but I think I've been able to avoid that. Let me know what you think!

Lastly, some of the speeches are lifted directly from _Goblet of Fire_. The story will deviate from canon more and more, so fewer and fewer quotes will be taken from it.

Read & Review, Critique & Correct


	3. Chapter 3: Playing in the Room

Disclaimer: Much to my chagrin, the Room of Requirement could not grant me ownership of the Harry Potter Universe.

Warning: Most offensive use of adult language in this story is ahead.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Three: Playing in the Room of Requirement**

My face flushes with righteous anger at the thrice-cursed, damnably stubborn entity just beyond the tip of my wand.

"Fuck you, feather! Fuck you and the fucking imaginary bird you came from!" A string of further probably unintelligible grumbles and growls that question the integrity and fidelity of the feather's imaginary family escape me. I sit and stew for a few minutes, occasionally lobbing particularly scathing insults as they come to me. The fact that I don't come up with them right away further pisses me off. Finally I stand up and glare at the feather again. "Alright you dirty son of bitch, let's do this shit."

Swish and flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa_! Fuck!"

I toss my wand – okay, I hurl that piece of shit – at the couch behind me and point my finger menacingly at the feather. "You listen here, you—hwaaa?" A familiar rush emanates from my stomach, up through my shoulder and out my finger, and the feather flies upward off the table but floats back down almost immediately, and I realize it must be because I lost concentration.

I stare in shock for a moment as the feather floats gently to the floor. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands before replacing it and concentrating, trying to take it slow. Sure enough, a much smaller rush of what I now know to be magic flows out of my finger and lifts the feather off the table, less violently this time, but still too roughly. I let go, but before the feather reaches the ground I try again, trying to send just enough magic seep out to keep the feather afloat.

Yes!

I dash back and pick up my wand, and return the feather to its place. I point the wand and concentrate, and the feather gently lifts off with barely a trickle of magic! I let it fall and try again.

Swish and flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." The feather stays still.

Well, I'll be damned.

I concentrate again, aiming for the small trickle. Just when I feel it seeping down my arm, I swish and flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." Nothing. The motion and incantation are ruining my concentration!

I aim again for the small trickle. This time no swish and flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," I say absently, instead focusing on my magic. The feather lifts off.

Small trickle. "_Leviosa Wingardium_." Feather lifts off.

Small trickle. "_Yakka foob mog_." Feather lifts off.

I laugh in maniacal delight, then an idea strikes me.

Small trickle. "_Stupefy_." Feather lifts off.

Small trickle. "_Avada—_" A shiver breaks my concentration.

I decide not to try that one again. Still shaken I stand and approach one of the training dummies hanging from the ceiling, and take aim with my wand. "_Stupefy!_"

Nothing. I tuck my wand in my pocket and hold my hand directly at the dummy. Aiming for a decent rush of magic and concentrating on what I want it to do, a jet of red light jumps from my hand and strikes the dummy, causing a slight physical movement. Not the physical blast the spell gets in the movies.

Yeah, Stunning an inanimate object isn't going to work. Same for the Impediment Jinx, I imagine. I decide to skip those for now. There's a strange pull in my stomach after that Stunner, so I have the room provide a clock only to find it's nearly lunchtime.

I figure I've got time for one more.

Stepping back, I give a cruel smile at the training dummy, picturing what Ginny does to it in here next year. I hold up my hand as a large rush of magic builds in my arm until a large blue ball of energy erupts out of my hand, but I don't get to see the results as the recoil sends me sprawling.

My stomach clenches painfully when I hit the ground, and everything is hazy. I open my eyes – wait, I had them shut? – and I squint at the light which causes my head to pound. Thankfully the lights dim. Who did that? Where am I again? Oh yeah, the Room of Requirement. I look up on the wall and the clock appears once again. Almost five-thirty.

"Wait, _what_?" the sudden noise and movement causes me to clutch my head and cry out in pain.

I wonder if the room can conjure something for my headache, but apparently that doesn't include anything edible. Which is odd, considering that it's possible to conjure water. And birds, which I presume you can capture and cook. But perhaps those things disappear in time, and you get no nourishment out of them? In any case I manage to get a cold cloth out of it.

After a few minutes of lying down with the cloth over my face, I'm able to sit up, and then stand a few minutes after that. Eventually I make my way to the exit, where I whimper at the loss of coolness against my forehead.

By the time I reach the Great Hall, I'm walking at a reasonably good clip; that is, somewhat faster than my sloth-like movements when I first started. At least the steps aren't rattling my brains anymore.

"Hey, we missed you at lun—hey, what happened?" Hermione jumps up and squeaks when she noticed my condition, and Harry and Ron follow suit as if ready to spring into action.

I wince at the sound. "Could you—" I start, but my voice is garbled with unnatural sleep, causing me to cough and try to clear my throat. "Could you keep it down? I feel like I got ran over by a troll."

"A _troll_?" Ron exclaims, looking around fearfully. "_Where_?"

"Ow..." I moan.

"It's an expression, Ronald," Hermione says exasperatedly, then turns to me with a more concerned look. "We should get you to the Hospital Wing."

"But I'm starving, I missed lunch..."

She gives me a pained look, but turns and starts piling food on my plate. "So what happened, then?"

"Just practicing...got a bit carried away is all..."

"Oh no! You could be suffering from magical exhaustion! We should get you to the—"

I moan at the shrill reprimand and she clamps her hand over her mouth. "I know, I know, just let me eat a bit," I insist.

"What are your symptoms?" she asks, blessedly quietly.

"Headache, abdominal pain, mostly, and sensitivity to sound, and light," I say, counting each symptom off on my fingers. "Oh, and I passed out for about six hours."

"_Six hours_?" Her shrill voice ricochets around the inside of my skull, as if somebody crashed symbols inside of it.

"Ohhhh..."

"Hermione, sensitivity to sound, remember?" Harry whispers urgently.

"Sorry..." she whispers to me.

I slowly nod in response, not wanting to toss my brain about even more. I enjoy a minute of quiet, eating in peace.

"Why were you practicing?" Hermione asks, thankfully keeping her voice low. "I thought you had to take care of something."

"That was it," I say.

"But I thought we were going to practice," she says, a bit of hurt entering her voice.

"We are, but I didn't want to embarrass myself," I say, forcing a tiny smile. "Well, not too badly, anyway."

"I doubt that would have been the case."

I fight the urge to snort, afraid that it'll hurt. "You'd be surprised."

She watches me put down my fork. "Well, how are you feeling now?"

"Getting better, actually," I say slowly. "I'm pretty sure I was dehydrated and hungry. Still am, really," I say, taking another drink of water, "but I don't think I can eat any more food right now."

She presses her lips together, probably torn between bossing me to go and trying to seem less bossy. "I still think we should go."

I consider it for a moment. "I think it would be good to know how to get there, at least."

Harry snorts but says nothing.

"Frequent visitor?" I ask, smiling. I stop smiling, though. It hurts.

"You could say that," Harry says.

"I think Harry might know that place better than Pomfrey herself," Ron says with a laugh.

* * *

"Well, that's it, Mr. Lerner, you're free to go. Just take it easy – try to avoid casting any spells tonight, if possible," the Hogwarts matron says in a very business-like manner. She's not the same kind of stern as Professor McGonagall, but there is an equal lack of warmth.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"And thank you for bringing him in, Ms. Granger."

Hermione blushes and nods as we take our leave.

"Thank you for making me go. That potion was nasty, but it made me feel much better," I say after the door closes.

"Well, you needed it," she says firmly. "I'm glad you think so – usually I have to drag Harry by his ear. When he's conscious, I mean."

I chuckle lightly. "Sounds like a frequent occurrence."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Any good stories? We've got a bit of a walk, after all." I want to get back to the Room of Requirement, but I can't figure out a way to do that without raising suspicion.

"Hmm, oh! Well, you see, Second Year we had this awful professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. His name is Gilderoy Lockhart, have you heard of him?" I nod, and she proceeds to tell me the time he removed the bones from Harry's entire arm from the elbow down. Then she continues to tell me about many other of the fraud's deficiencies, deftly avoiding anything related to the basilisk or the Chamber of Secrets.

We're both laughing so hard at Lockhart's antics that I don't even notice that we're in front of the Fat Lady guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

I suddenly try to think up an excuse. "Uh, you go ahead, I'm just going to...pick up something I dropped before I came down to dinner."

Hermione's face immediately becomes skeptical, then angry. "Oh no you don't, _Mr. Lerner_, you're not going to practice some more! You heard what Pomfrey said!"

"Hey, I'm not going to practice any spells, I swear!" That is a perfectly true statement.

"Well I'm coming with you then."

"Oh, but...uh, don't you have to meet up with Harry and Ron? You said you would when we came back." Yeah, that's a pathetic argument, I know.

"No, they can wait." The stubborn set of her jaw told me she wasn't going to give this up.

I scratch my head to think. "Okay," I say, coming up with an idea, "I'll just go back tomorrow." I turn to the Fat Lady. "Balderdash."

"It's about time..." the portrait says with an eye roll.

Hermione eyes me suspiciously, but follows me in. I sit by Harry and Ron near the fire, even though I'm not particularly cold.

"Hey, how'd it go?" Harry asks.

"Well enough," I say. "Got a potion, fixed me right up."

"No, you have to take it easy tonight, too," Hermione says bossily.

"Sorry for your luck, mate," Ron mutters. I understand he's not talking about my magical exhaustion. Unfortunately, so does Hermione. "Ow!"

"What about your thing with McGonagall, did you ever get to her office?" Harry asks.

I love you, Harry. My eyes widen. "Oh no, I forgot!" I say, standing up.

"I'll go with you," Hermione says, joining me.

"I know the way," I say, "but thanks..."

Hermione glares. Damn it!

"Leave the man alone, Hermione," Ron says, then, "ow!"

"Hermione, can you help me look over my Charms essay?" Harry asks. "I'm not real confident in the part about effects of overdoing the Cheering Charm."

Hermione turns her glare on Harry, who looks back innocently. She relents at Harry's pathetic attempt at puppy dog eyes. "Fine."

"I'll see you guys in a bit," I say, walking back out of the common room.

Making my way back to the seventh floor corridor, I wonder if Luna will be up there again to catch the sunset. I make a full loop, but to my disappointment I don't see her. With just over an hour left, I have to hurry if I want to get anything done. I head back to the corner with the tapestry and begin pacing, holding the image of the room in my mind.

"There you are." I freeze as Hermione's voice carries across the corridor. Inanely I wonder if she's talking to somebody else, a notion which is quickly disabused when she marches up to me.

"Uh, hey Hermione..." I say. What do I do? Can I really show her the Room of Requirement? Damn it, I'm running out of time! She's not supposed to find out until next year. Will it change too much? Will she report me? It will definitely seem suspicious that I know about a secret room in a castle I'd never set foot in before yesterday.

"What are you doing up here?" Her voice drips with suspicion.

I try my best to look innocent. "Enjoying the sunset, see?"

"I don't believe you." The finality in her voice, her eyes, and her stance come through quite clear...nothing I say is going to convince her.

Damn. I bury my face in my hands, slide them up my face and through my hair, then lock my fingers behind my head. Okay, she's going to find out anyway, right? Will it change anything if Harry and Ron find out about it already? I quickly evaluate various scenarios, and the worst thing I can think of is if Crouch/Moody finds us. Crouch is probably hiding, though, from his awkward demeanor at the Feast, the impostor wouldn't want to be seen too much at the beginning, lest he be discovered. "Okay, but you have to swear not to tell anybody."

Her eyes widen and her mouth opens, but closes without responding.

I look directly into her deep brown eyes. "Do you swear?"

She bites her lip. "What about Harry and Ron?"

"We'll show them later. This can't..." I falter, trying to think of a cover story. "This can't become public knowledge."

"What about the teachers?"

"_Especially_ not the teachers. I'm serious, Hermione. Especially not them. That could be...catastrophic. Not even Dumbledore knows."

Hermione's eyes turn fearful, and she backs up a step. "You're scaring me..."

"Hey, no, I promise it's nothing scary," I say, deliberately avoiding the insinuation that she's scared of _me_. "Here, take my wand." I don't mention the fact that, apparently, I don't really even need it.

She makes no move to take it.

"This castle has many secrets, I think," and she makes a choking sound. Damn, that was definitely not the right thing to say; in her experience a secret chamber does not mean good things. "But this one has to be one of the coolest," I say quickly. "Watch."

I set my wand on the floor and turn to face the entrance. Clearing my mind, I picture the room from before and walk back and forth three times. A strangled squeak followed by the grinding walls tells me I've been successful. I pull open the door and stand beside it. "Come on, check it out."

I'm glad she's a Gryffindor, otherwise she might have taken off. Instead she tentatively steps forward, trying to peek through the doorway. The comfortable sitting area is immediately inside the door, for which I'm thankful. The practice dummies could be a bit freaky. "What is it?"

"It's called the Room of Requirement. I found out about one like it at my old school, and I found information that said it was based on one here," I lie. "I never thought I'd see the original. I found the entrance earlier and asked it for a place to train, and this is what I got."

"You...asked it?"

"Yes, it only appears when the person needs it, and it changes to meet the person's needs. Come on, I'll show you...we don't have much time before curfew."

That made her stand up straight and walk in. I look back at my wand and consider trying to Summon it, but I remember my promise to Hermione. I hop over to grab it and then hop back to catch the door. After I follow her in I let it close and melt into a solid wall behind me.

Hermione is already at the bookcases. "These are a bunch of books on potions!"

I smile. "Well I did promise I wasn't going to cast any spells, didn't I?" Off to the right where the training dummy was, I see a desk equipped with Potions gear.

She looks back at me, eyes bright with excitement. "This is amazing!"

"I thought you'd appreciate that part," I say. "But I don't have much time to practice. Any suggestions on a quick potion I should try?"

Her lips purse in thought. "Hair-raising potion?"

"Hmmm, I'd prefer something practical," I say.

"Well most practical stuff takes too long. The sleeping draught has to sit for almost two hours, for example, and even a simple boil-curing potion has to sit for 45 minutes, so we'd be cutting it too close. The hair-raising potion would be quick and is safe to test, or you could try something more difficult like the Draught of Peace, but getting it wrong could be the drinker into an irreversible sleep. I don't know how good you are."

"Let's try for the Draught of Peace, I'm feeling dangerous," I say with a small smile. "If it doesn't look right we'll just get rid of it."

"Sounds good, it should be in...ah, here it is; the Fifth Year textbook—wait, what about the ingredients?"

I smile. "The room, remember?"

"But you can't conjure anything edible; that's the first of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration!"

"Yeah, I thought of that earlier." Except for the part about Gamp's Law. "But you can conjure water, yes? And birds? It seems to me there is some wiggle room there. Let's give it a shot, see if the room can provide it. I know for certain that the items conjured by the room disappear if you try to carry them out, and they probably disappear after a certain amount of time, too."

Hermione looks thoughtful. "Okay, we'll try it out, anyway. We need powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, valerian root, and powdered unicorn horn. Here..."

Sure enough, the Room provided a significant supply of all five ingredients. I studied the instructions. "Like baking," I say, more to myself.

"For the most part," Hermione says in reply. "Except it's even more exact than that. The margin of error in baking is significantly larger than in Potions. The amount and quality of the ingredients, temperatures, the timing, the stirring – it's all critical. A master potioneer knows every property of each ingredient, including how it reacts with others, and how combinations of ingredients react to different stimuli."

"That sounds...awful. Will you do the honors of casting the Aguamenti Charm for the base? I would but..." I smile. "I promised."

She smiles and comes over to conjure the water for me before returning to one of the chairs. "It does sound awful, but some people seem to have an instinct about it. Harry does, actually, though he doesn't try hard enough to realize it, and Snape has it out for him. I have to rely on studying, memorization, and references."

I smile at her, tempted to spill Snape's reasoning behind disliking Harry, but I keep it to myself for now. "All right, looks like the ingredients are already prepared, right? Or do you normally have to powder unicorn horn yourself?"

"Well those particular ingredients do come powdered for our class. In Sixth and Seventh Years, we have to enchant the mortar and pestle and do the powdering ourselves. I wonder if the room knew."

"I did specifically request powdered," I reply.

"Interesting..." Hermione looks thoughtful, so I dive into the Draught of Peace formula.

Before I know it the powdered moonstone, porcupine quills, and unicorn horn along with the valerian root are all added, and I'm reducing the flames and setting the egg timer to allow it to simmer for seven minutes. I'm not at all sure about the temperature or color or smell, but a glance at Hermione shows a lack of a grimace or frown so I figure it can't be too bad. But then, it isn't a smile, either. I'm afraid to ask.

"Anything you want me to ask the Room for?" I ask instead.

"Shouldn't you be watching your potion?"

I shrug. "It says to let it simmer for seven minutes before I add the hellebore. It's only been one. I can conjure something for you if you like. A non-potion-related book, perhaps?"

"Thank you, but no, not this time. Not enough time to enjoy it."

"Oh I dunno, I thought I saw you read our entire Charms textbook during breakfast."

She smiles coyly. And I look away. Hell, what am I even doing? Flirting with Hermione? Sure, her and Ron just don't make sense, but can I really just change something like that on whim? That could really mess things up in the future.

She must notice my look. "What's wrong?"

"Just thinking..." I respond with a sigh.

After a moment she asks quietly, "anything you want to share?"

I wish. "Hmm."

"You don't seem happy at whatever it is."

"I'm not."

This seems to get her fidgeting. "I know we just met, but...you really can tell me, whatever it is."

"I may, in time."

"Speaking of time..." she hints in an amused voice.

My eyes snap up. Phew, thirty seconds to add the hellebore. "You scared me."

She smiles at me. "It's only fair."

"I guess it is."

I add the syrup of hellebore, and the potion begins to emit a yellowish vapor and a sour smell. "I don't think that was supposed to happen."

"No, I wouldn't recommend giving that a sip," she says with a grimace.

I watch a few moments, vainly hoping the color will improve. It doesn't comply. "Any idea where I went wrong?"

She looks at me strangely. "Well I think you went a bit heavy on the porcupine quills, and the temperature was a bit too high for the initial stirring. You could have gone a bit slower, too; I think you overshot the seventh stir."

I turn off the burner. "That's...quite meticulous."

She blushes. "I was watching closely. Of course, I haven't made this myself; so I can only tell you what I think I would have done differently. I'm not really sure I would have done any better."

I doubt that, but I'm not supposed to know how good she is. "I'm afraid I didn't have any idea where I was going wrong, so I may need to rely on memorization and references myself. That bodes ill for me. Well, next time you give it a shot and I'll watch and learn."

"Sounds good," she says, smiling.

"We'd better head back, wouldn't you say?"

"What about that?" She gestures to the stinky, yellow, ruined Draught of Peace.

I shrug. "The room should make it disappear, unless you want to do the honors."

She pulls her wand without hesitating. "_Evanesco_."

I whistle as the potion completely vanishes. "Very nicely done, I don't see a single drop left."

"Thank you," she says with another blush.

"After you?" I ask, making the door appear and holding it open.

"Such a gentlemen!"

"Don't tell anybody, I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

She giggles. Giggles! Hermione doesn't giggle! Damn it, again with the flirting, Lerner?

"Hermione, I..." Really shouldn't be doing this. But I can't say it. How can I? "I'm glad you came after me tonight." I scowl. Way to go, Lerner, hope you were going for the exact opposite effect!

"You don't look like it."

"No, it's not that..." I exhale in frustration. Damn it, how am I supposed to say this? "I'm not...maybe you were right. In fact you were right, you should be scared of me. I mean, I want to be your friend, but I'm just..."

"Confusing?" she offers with a smile.

"Confused," I correct her. I open my mouth to say more, but I can't make any words come out.

"It's okay. I don't think I should be scared of you, and I want to be your friend, too."

I look at her and she's giving me what I suppose is a friendly smile. I hope I didn't hurt her feelings, and I don't see any hint that I did. I smile back. "I'm glad." I know she's sensitive about her femininity at the moment, but I don't know what to say that won't either hurt her feelings in some way or encourage her the wrong way. Damn it, how did this get so complicated?

"I'm glad you showed me the Room of Requirement. Next time I want to try and make the room."

"Okay then, it's a da—I mean, sounds good to me. What are you going to make it?"

"A library."

I laugh. "Of course."

"I was wondering if all those books were in the castle, or if it can get books that it doesn't have. For example, if I try to conjure actual scrolls from the Library of Alexandria?"

"I think they were probably all in the castle, but it would be a fun thing to try." I ponder that a moment, and stop suddenly. "Actually, that could be bad. That could be very bad."

She squints her eyes, probably trying to fathom how more books would be bad. "How so?"

"Suppose I try to conjure your diary?"

Her eyes bulge out of her head.

"Not that I would! I wouldn't, but think about it, what if someone like Malfoy got in there and thought of that."

She looks even more ill.

"Yeah..."

"I don't think Malfoy could get my diary open, but..." She shakes her head. "I see what you meant before. It would be very bad if word of that room got out. I'd never heard any inkling of it before, and we tend to suss out the secrets in this castle."

I smile and raise an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

She makes a face that tells me she didn't mean to say that much.

I take it easy on her. "Well I'm glad to contribute to your record then, now that you know about that," I say, jerking my thumb over my shoulder.

"I suppose you have." She looks thoughtful, so I let her stew and enjoy the eerie glow that the torches throw around the darkened corridors.

When we reach a particular corridor, she glances down it and breaks the silence. "You never went to see Professor McGonagall."

"No, she said she'd get back to me. Of course, if she tried she wouldn't have been able to find me very often today." I say with a smile.

She gasps. "You lied!"

I smile softly. "Sorry, I was too embarrassed to admit what I was really doing, which is trying to avoid embarrassment later."

She purses her lips at me. "Well I suppose I can let it slide. What are you going to tell Harry and Ron?"

"What do you think?" It occurs to me that she doesn't know how easily I lie. That might be a bad thing. Or a good thing, to drive her away.

She bites her lip. "As close to the truth as possible. You didn't get to talk to her. Say she wasn't available."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "And why were we gone so long, then?"

"We...went to look for her?"

The trouble she has with that makes me chuckle. "Hermione Granger, are you telling me you're a good liar?"

She looks horrified.

"Don't worry, I'll keep your secret," I say conspiratorially. "Unless you're secretly a spy for...oh come on, Hermione, I'm kidding." She purses her lips together and smacks me lightly on the shoulder for my efforts. I grin at that but decide to try and placate her. "You aren't really that good a liar, if it makes you feel better."

"And you are?" She says in challenge.

I chuckle at that. "Is there even a good way for me to answer that?"

Her eyes go distant for a split second, then she frowns. "I suppose not." We climb a few steps in silence. "Have you lied to me?"

I stop in surprise, consider my answer for a moment, then continue. "Yes, but not in a way that will ever knowingly endanger you or your friends. I can swear on that." I give a wry chuckle. "Don't you remember my lie about going to see McGonagall an hour ago?"

More steps in silence. "I could tell you weren't going to go, so that doesn't count. Though I suppose you did lie about having to go to her at all." She fixes me with a mock glare. "What about before that?"

I take a measured breath. "Yes, but my previous statement still stands."

"Not what I was hoping to hear."

"I'm sorry, but to say no would have been a lie, too. I've only been here for a day, I must have my secrets for now. I'm sure you have yours. And don't forget, we now share one of our own."

She looks at me surprised for a moment, then nods reluctantly. "You said you'd share what made you upset back there, eventually. Is that one of your secrets?"

"Yes." More steps in silence.

"Do you trust me, even though you know I have secrets?"

"Yes," I answer without hesitation.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I lie. "I just feel like I can, I guess."

"Really?"

"Yes. I assume you don't feel the same way about me?"

She remains quiet.

"It's okay, I don't mind."

"No, it's not that, it's just..." she trails off.

"No, really, you don't have to explain. I have a significant advantage over you; I can talk to teachers and other students that have known you for three years. You can't do a background check on me."

She looks startled. "Have you done that?"

I laugh. "No, except for Harry and Ron, and then I didn't even ask. You just come up a lot when we talk."

Her expression goes back and forth between interested and frightened. "Really?"

"Of course, you're their best friend."

"Probably about me bossing them or something."

"A bit, I won't lie. But more often it's just like you're one of them. Harry defends you fiercely if anyone goes too far."

"I...I see..."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Boys our age are stupid."

She raises an eyebrow at that. "Are you?"

"Yes," I say, again without hesitation. "Especially me. But the first step in recovery is admitting the problem, right?" Maybe I should actually take my own advice to heart.

* * *

"Oi, what took you guys so long?" Ron asks when we get over to them.

I put on a mischievous smile. "Sorry, we stopped and had a bit of a snog. Ow!" Harry and Ron's jaws drop.

"You prat," she says with a glare. Without taking her glare off me she continues addressing their question. "We couldn't find McGonagall...she wasn't in her office so we looked around."

"Snog is such a weird word to me," I say, rubbing my chin, "in the States we say 'making out' or something. Snog sounds kind of like a curse word. Like, snog off, you snogging snogger."

"Is he okay?" Ron asks with one hand blocking his mouth from my view and the other hand jerking a finger toward me.

"He won't be," Hermione says menacingly. "Now will you cut it out? People are going to talk."

"Why would people talk about you snogging him?" Harry asks loudly in a deeper-than-normal voice, and I laugh.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieks.

"Hey! Who's snogging Harry?" A voice behind them asks loudly, causing more heads to pop up to find out who's speaking.

"Wait, what'd you say about Professor McGonagall?" Ron asks in his normal loud voice.

"Oh my gods, Harry and _Professor McGonagall_?" A girl exclaims.

Harry and Hermione now look like they're going to vomit.

"What are you tossers on about?" Ron asks angrily. "That's ridiculous!"

"You're the one who said it!"

"I said nothing of the sort!" Ron yelled back.

"I agree, it's completely snogging ridiculous if you ask me," I say.

"What does that even mean?" Ron asks.

"Must be a Yank thing. Anyway, ohhh snog it, I'm tired," I say with a wide yawn. "You know, snogging magical exhaustion and all. Good night, lady, gentlemen."

Hermione throws a pillow at me, ruining my otherwise graceful bow.

"So wait," I hear Ron say before I'm out of earshot, "did you guys really—OW!"

* * *

A/N:

Google says both impostor and imposter are correct, but both of them look weird to me.

I know the students had an hour and a half to finish the Draught of Peace in their Fifth Year, but it doesn't take that long in my story. The Harry Potter wiki really does say it needs to simmer for seven minutes, which I think is information from Pottermore.

Also, the snogging bit just kind of came out of nowhere. Sorry 'bout that.

R & R, C & C


	4. Chapter 4: Catching Up

Disclaimer: Every snogging thing in this story belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Four: Catching Up**

Once again I'm paralyzed with a moment of panic before I realize where I am. I wonder how long it's going to take for me to stop expecting to wake up in the real world, and then I wonder if hoping for that is a good thing or a bad thing for my sanity. Harry isn't in his bed but Ron is still sawing logs...with a malfunctioning chainsaw. The other guys are still asleep, probably because they're used to it by now. It isn't long before I'm up and showered, since with my nerves getting to me I don't dawdle too much.

Still, I come out to find Ron awake and sleepily getting dressed, so we head down to the common room together, where we find Harry and Hermione are chatting quietly.

"We still on for a bit of flying this morning?" Harry asks when he sees us.

"Absolutely!" Ron says excitedly, sleepiness washed away by the prospect of getting on a broom.

"You know, you should pretend you're going flying every day if it wakes you up that much," Hermione says.

Ron frowns. "But most days I won't be."

"That's why it's called pretending," she says, clearly trying to keep the condescension out of her voice.

"You sure you don't want to join us?" Harry asks hopefully, looking back and forth between me and his bushy-haired friend.

"Yes," Hermione says. I give a small smile and a wink.

"Ah, right," Harry says with a grin, "you've got your snogging to do."

She mock glares at him. "Don't you start with that again, Harry!"

"Hey, just think of it as a euphemism for studying," I say. "That way, next time your roommates ask you where you've been, you can say, 'oh, I was just in the library, snogging as usual.'"

Hermione doesn't find that as funny as I do, instead sticking her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Why would studying need a euphemism?"

Harry and I both laugh at that before I speak up. "Hmm, well I suppose I didn't think that one through, because what happens when Harry and Ron come to snog with us?"

"Okay, I think I just lost my appetite," she says.

"Me too," says Harry.

"Why? We're just talking about studying." Ron says.

"As if you could ever lose your appetite anyway," Hermione says, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, he just knows a good euphemism when he hears one," I say. "Like 'dirtying the shutters' or 'dipping in the wishing well'"

Hermione shudders. "I don't even want to know what those mean."

"I just made them up, actually," I say with a grin. "I just wanted to see how far in the gutter your mind was."

"You must be a masochist," Harry says as he sees me rubbing my shoulder that dared be in range of Hermione's hand. Her smacks are getting more forceful.

"So flying and then snog—er, studying until lunch then?" Ron asks.

"Sounds fair to me," I say.

"At least this time you'll have someone there when you try to dip in the wishing well," Hermione says, trying unsuccessfully to fix me with a glare. The amusement in her eyes is more than enough to give her away; the curling of her lips just makes it extra obvious.

"I dunno, if we're both there you might dirty the shutters."

"She probably will unless she winds up the plastic penguin," Harry adds.

"That's disgusting, Harry," I say.

"I have no idea what's going on around here," Ron says.

* * *

"Hello, William," Luna greets us when we reach the seventh floor corridor. "I see you've brought a friend."

Her melodic voice makes me smile. "Ah, I didn't want to keep the lovely morning views all to myself, in case you weren't here. I looked for you up here around sunset, you know."

Luna smiles back. "I'm sorry I missed it."

I see Hermione looking at me with an unreadable expression, then she turns to Luna. "I'm Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger."

"Mmm," Luna says.

I discreetly hold up a finger for quiet, then point at the window, and Hermione looks perplexed, but acquiesces and turns her attention out the window.

There we stand in silence for some time, and once again I lose myself watching the beautiful cumulus clouds drift lazily toward the horizon. When the puffy, white clouds move in front of the sun, golden rays of light shimmer into existence and bathe the countryside. I find myself hoping and waiting for the next cloud to drift in that direction.

A hand lightly touches my shoulder, and after the most recent captor cloud releases its prisoner, I turn to find Hermione watching the spectacle, too, with her hand on my shoulder. A moment later she turns to me, expression softer but still unreadable, then her gaze falls to Luna.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," Hermione says softly.

"You're welcome," the other girl says in her sing-song voice. "Not many people want to watch."

"I can't imagine why, it's indescribably beautiful."

Luna hums in agreement, and we all return to our sky gazing for a few moments, but we all shift slightly. The moment has passed. "I'm glad you brought her, William, I like her."

"I like her, too," I say.

Hermione seems to understand, and smiles. "What's your name?"

"My name is Luna."

"I'm glad to meet you, Luna." Hermione looks like she wants to hold out her hand, but she isn't sure exactly how to interact with the unusual Ravenclaw.

Luna turns and smiles at her. "Likewise. Goodbye, William, Hermione."

"See you around, Luna," I say.

Hermione and I walk leisurely and silently to the corner where the entrance to the Room of Requirement is hidden. We both glance back to find Luna gone. Surprisingly Hermione doesn't comment, as if she might have expected that as well.

"May I?" she asks quietly, as if trying to avoid spoiling the moment with too many words.

I smile and not in encouragement.

In short order the wall begins its grinding and groaning to produce a door for us, and we enter an incredible library, completely covered in neatly-ordered stacks of bookshelves except for a small sitting area near a fireplace. I haven't seen it in person, but I would not be surprised if this one turned out to be larger even than the main Hogwarts library.

"Very impressive," I say.

"I'm glad you like it. So...William, huh?"

I give a small chuckle as I walk over to a nearby shelf and begin perusing the stacks. "She asked me if Bud was short for anything, and I said William. You know, Bud is an okay name in the States, but here it just sounds awkward."

"Would you like me to call you that?"

I resist frowning. I had originally thought it would be kind of a me and Luna thing. "I don't know, give it a try."

"Okay, William, how is that?"

"Hmmm, I like it." I actually do.

"I like it, too," she admits. "But won't that be confusing?"

"No, because Bud doesn't sound natural to me here either." I don't mention that neither one is my real name anyway, so it can't get any more confusing than it already is. "Are there any other Williams?"

"Ron's oldest brother is called Bill, but I can't think of anyone else at Hogwarts. There probably is in one of the other years."

"Hmmm," I hum as I scan titles. I seem to have come to a history section, and interestingly I believe I see some Muggle books mixed in there.

Hermione fidgets. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Luna...she...everybody calls her 'Looney' Lovegood, saying she does strange things all the time. But you...you knew exactly how to communicate with her. Looking out the window, quietly enjoying the view...it didn't seem strange at all when we were doing it, even though it would have if you had told me what we'd be doing just a moment earlier. I quite enjoyed it. I mean...I _loved_ it. And I hadn't ever even considered doing that before."

"Hmmm. She is different, but it's not in a bad way." I pause and ponder on it for a moment, but shake my head. "I can't explain it."

"I can't either, and yet I know exactly what you mean. Like when you said you l-liked me. See? I'm embarrassed to say it here, but I knew it meant something else when we were out there. It's like every word is the truth when you're with her. Maybe that's why it felt wrong to talk."

I ponder that a moment. "The truth...yeah, that's a good explanation as I'll ever come up with."

"Will you...take me up there again?"

I smile. "She likes you now, I don't think she'll mind if you go without me."

She seems to deflate a bit. "I suppose so."

"But yes, I enjoy it, too. It'll be a shame when we have class after breakfast and we can't make it up there."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I agree."

I chuckle at that. I also don't believe she would have ever said that. "So what are we doing first?"

This snaps her back into business mode. "I figured we could go through the subjects alphabetically...since we only have a year of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy to review I figure it'll feel like it's going faster this way. Plus Ron and Harry aren't missing out since they aren't taking those."

I nod. "Sounds perfect to me."

"I'm also interested in seeing what the Room conjured, so after reviewing last year's work and previewing this year's, I thought we'd set aside a half-hour to peek through more advanced texts for each subject."

I smile at Hermione using her excited voice, the one I get the feeling she doesn't get to use too often with Harry and Ron. "Excellent. Shall we find the Runes section?"

She doesn't even hesitate as she leads me to the shelves on the wall in one corner. Leave it to Hermione to imagine an entire full-sized library and still know where everything is. After handing me an armful of books, she flips through one herself as we make our way over to the sitting area. "Did you take anything like Ancient Runes at your old school?"

I shake my head. "We were exposed to them, but the class itself wasn't available until Freshman Year, which is like your Fourth Year." Hey, that probably sounded quite convincing! "Actually, all of our electives are that way. Best to assume I'm starting from scratch."

She frowns slightly but nods. "Okay, well all we really did was cover the Proto-Germanic runes and their Old English equivalents. We only really looked at the possible meanings and basic language constructs, and that will continue through this year. For example, _ehwaz_ is the rune for speed, but it literally means horse, and horses can also represent intelligence, strength, light, destruction, or victory; it just depends on how it's used. Unfortunately we don't go into warding and runic enchantment until after OWLs, although next year we'll get some exposure to it so we can recognize them when we see them. Over the break I summarized what we learned last year and drew up this quick reference map containing potential meanings, cross-referenced with my notes and the Third and Fourth Year textbooks." She pulls out a fairly large rolled-up parchment and spreads it out on the table.

I don't notice my jaw hanging loosely so I think I drool a little before coming to my senses. "This is incredible! Maybe I should just skip this year and wait for next year's quick reference." I dodge a smack. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I can't even describe how awesome this is, seriously." I weigh down the corners on my edge with my Room-conjured copy of the Third and Fourth Year textbooks, and she secures the other edge with hers.

I spend a while poring over the reference parchment. "Hermione, do you have extra writing stuff?"

She looks at me strangely for a moment, then nods and silently hands over a quill, ink jar, and a small stack of parchment.

"Thanks," I say, looking down at the quill and ink. Oh boy, this is going to be awkward. I probably should have practiced this before now.

She fidgets a moment before asking what's on her mind. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I was expecting this. It's just that we used Muggle pens and pencils and notebooks in my school." Technically an entirely true statement.

"You know, it never occurred to me before, but that makes a lot of sense. Those things are much cheaper than the magical equivalent." She looks at her own parchment. "I wonder if parchment is easier to enchant than Muggle paper made from wood pulp?"

"Well they make wands out of normal wood found in Muggle forests, don't they?"

"I don't know much wandlore, but I guess they do, since my wand is made of vine wood, Harry's is holly, and Ron's is willow. I don't know if the trees have to be magically treated or something, though."

"Hmm, well maybe there's an idea for after graduation: introduce wood pulp paper to the wizarding world, undercut parchment prices, make tons of money. There must be something holding the wizarding world back from accepting it, though. I'm sure somebody else had to have thought of that before."

Hermione looks shocked. "I wouldn't be too sure, I mean, look how quickly I just accepted that quills and ink wells and parchment were the proper way to write in the magical world. You might be on to something there, William."

Her use of my new name makes me smile. "Well we can't recreate the magical world in our image in only our Fourth Year. I'll just get used to this for now."

The ink comes out uneven for a while, but I'm not doing too badly practicing the runes and making my own reference paper. After I've copied all of them, I look up and Hermione is going through the extra, more advanced books she brought over. Or rather, the books that _I_ brought over; she just picked them out.

"Can you look at my runes? I practiced them on this scrap sheet first, but I'm not confident about a few of them."

"Sure, let me see...the lower tail of _eihwaz_ should be a bit more prominent or else it looks too much like _laguz_—" she pauses to flip back and forth between the sheets of parchment. "What order are these in?"

"Oh, this first sheet are the runes I thought might figure prominently in defensive wards and enchantments, and possible supporting runes. Then on the second page are the other runes I wasn't so sure about."

"That's...but why would you...I would have never thought to do that."

I shrug. "I learn better when the material has practical applications, like with our little potions experiment last night. It's why I didn't want to take Divination or Muggle Studies. I don't have a drop of Seer blood in me, I'm sure, so I highly doubt I would get anything out of Divination at all, and I've heard you can learn more just by going out and being among Muggles than you can learn in the Hogwarts class."

Hermione looks surprised. I figure she just learns what's in the book because that's what's in the book. It's almost like one fanfiction said: what's the point of even having a Ravenclaw House when the most Ravenclaw student in the school is in Gryffindor? Of course, she's a hell of a Gryffindor, too. She shakes her head and smiles at my notes. I'm just happy she can read them. "Some of these things are brilliant. Are you looking to be a cursebreaker or something? Let's check out books on warding and runic enchantment, see if some of your observations are on the mark."

"Are we still on schedule?"

She checks the clock – hers is much prettier than the one I conjured – and purses her lips. "Well we can slip a little bit...I've figured in some extra time before lunch. I want to see if some of these ideas have merit."

"You don't think so?"

"I do, they make a lot of sense. But like I said, we don't talk about this stuff until upper years. Here..." she says, handing me a book off the pile that she hadn't yet gotten to, while she grabs two from the ones she'd already perused.

Mine is entitled _Basic Warding Schemes for Defence and Safety of the Home_, which sounds promising. In it I find ward schemes for an intruder alarm, protecting the outer walls against the elements and stray magic, protecting the interior of a room against accidental magic, along with a similar but much more complex version for hardening a training room against dueling magic.

Not surprisingly, _eihwaz_ figures prominently in many of these, as does _ansuz_ which I correctly surmised might be used for control. _Odal_ is also used frequently since we're talking about protecting the home. One thing I missed was that the simpler wards get by with _sowilo_ for power; only the more complex wards use _thurisaz._ The chaotic nature of the latter means those ward schemes have a much smaller margin of error, even with balancing _ingwaz_.

"Wow, why don't they teach us this stuff first?" Hermione asks, breaking the silence.

"Find some good stuff?"

"Yeah, it looks like you were right on target with some of these. It's amazing! And to think I keep having trouble with _eihwaz_ and _ehwaz_ just because they sound similar. The use cases are completely different!"

"Glad I could help," I say with a smile. "How are we on time?"

Hermione frowns. "We're behind now. I don't suppose Arithmancy was a required course, was it?" My grimace was all the answer she needed. "We should at least have enough time for reviewing the previous material and previewing this upcoming work, though we won't get to look ahead any further than that."

"Well that's the practical part of it, right?"

Now it's her turn to grimace. "I guess it would be."

"Tell you what, we'll see how far we get, then we can keep at it a bit longer after lunch."

"But at this rate we won't finish by tomorrow night!" She looks sadly at what I assume must be her meticulously planned schedule.

"Well what does our class schedule look like? We're taking the same classes, right? We'll just push back reviewing the subjects that we have later in the week."

Hermione sucks on her bottom lip, which I decide means hesitance.

"Oh, sorry," I say sheepishly. "I didn't mean to monopolize your time like that. Maybe you should—"

"N-no that's not it..."

"Hermione, remember the lying thing, specifically your lack of skill at it? It's okay, really, I'll survive. Just let me know when you'd like to study."

She sighs. "Well you're right about one thing: we have Herbology Monday morning so let's hit that after Arithmancy, which is Monday afternoon. We have Care of Magical Creatures after morning break, but Hagrid doesn't assign much in the way of homework. He quite prefers a more hands-on approach, so that shouldn't take too long. Those are all things we can do in the regular library, so we don't need to show Harry and Ron up here yet."

"You don't want to?" I ask with a smile.

"No, I do, but..." she trails off, then shakes her head and sighs. "It's stupid, forget about it."

I raise an eyebrow at her but let it drop. "Okay. Well, we've got Arithmancy to get through first, shall we make room and grab a different stack?"

She looked as if she wants to say more, but instead she just gets up and leads me to the Arithmancy section.

I am surprised to see her begin to head back to the sitting area with less than an armload of books, even considering the fact that she didn't believe we'd to get to finish all that she wanted to finish.

"Oh, please tell me you've got another one of those wonderful cheat sheets?"

She mock glares at me. "It's _not_ a cheat sheet."

"It is for me," I say with a grin, "I'm skipping the entire first year of these classes."

She pulls out the sheet, but holds it away from me. "Well you must know that I don't condone cheating, so perhaps I shouldn't show you."

"You wouldn't!" I pout at her.

She smiles evilly at me.

"Okay, okay, a study sheet, then?"

"That's better. I _suppose_ you can look at it now."

"Thanks, Hermione, you're a lifesaver."

"Oh if I had a sickle for every time I heard that..."

I grin. "I'm sure you'd have a couple galleons from me alone by the end of the year."

"I suppose we'll see," she says with a smile, but that's quickly replaced by a serious expression when she drops into professor mode. "Anyway, last year we focused almost entirely on the magical properties of numbers, that is, numerology. Part of that was going back and considering the work of famous Arithmancers like Bridget Wenlock, who practically formalized the field with her treatise on the number seven. Everybody had known that seven was lucky, but she was the first one who really delineated _why_, even though she missed some properties discovered later. Along the way we studied the numbers themselves, as well as how they interact with other numbers."

"Kinda like what you said about potion ingredients."

She looks surprised at the interruption. "Yes, actually, that's a great analogy. You were listening..."

I grin. "Was I supposed to not be?"

"No, you...I'm just not used to it, I guess. Well, anyway, moving on. One of the other important pieces was converting dates from the current Muggle calendar to the magical Roman calendar for Arithmantic purposes. It's similar to the Muggle equivalent in that we measure years from the founding of Rome, which I'm sure you know was done by wizards in 753 BCE. So for numerology purposes the current year is actually 2746 _ab urde condita_, or AUC. It's a bit tricky to remember to only add 752."

I raise an eyebrow at that. "Doesn't sound too tricky."

She shrugs. "I didn't think so either, but apparently the others had trouble with it. I don't know how they're going to handle it when we actually start solving Arithmantic equations this year. It's basically the equivalent of Muggle algebra and geometry, working our way towards calculus after OWLs."

"Sounds interesting. What kinds of variables are in these equations?"

"Oh, there are Arithmantic equations that describe everything, supposedly. That's the point: it's a descriptive science, so we look at existing magical behavior, find commonalities, and fit equations to them. And sometimes those turn into Arithmantic laws, like the Rule of Three, which the Muggle wiccans get totally wrong, by the way. That's the general idea, at least."

"Hm, makes sense," I say, absentmindedly rubbing my chin. "So I suppose Arithmantic geometry is important for designing your own rune schemes?"

She snorts and shakes her head. "I shouldn't be surprised that you thought of that already. Once again I never thought about it, but I saw some Arithmantic equations in a couple of these warding references barely an hour ago." She pointed to a small stack of Runes texts that she didn't move out of the way. I guess that answers the question about the less-than-armful. "Unfortunately I don't think we'll see much in the way of geometry this year, and the trigonometry pieces you'll need for all but the simplest warding schemes won't be until well into Fifth Year."

"The warding book you gave me didn't have any Arithmancy, it was more of an instruction manual." I look over at her stack and I'm tempted to check out the references she mentioned, but I refrain with a sigh. "Well, I better get to studying if I want to check out some of yours."

"Let me know if you see anything that doesn't make sense to you," she said, nodding at her summary sheets. "Some of these observations are my own, but you seem to have a knack for this stuff."

"Will do."

* * *

"You still alive, mate?" Ron says with a lopsided grin when we walk into the Great Hall for lunch.

"Actually I had a great time," I say, earning a brilliant smile from Hermione.

"I learned a great deal myself," Hermione says, getting surprised looks from Harry and Ron.

"Okay, are you _sure_ you're not talking about snogging now?" Harry asks with a grin.

I laugh, and even Hermione couldn't keep her glare up. "Yes, I'm sure, Harry. Let's just say I may have met my match in Runes and Arithmancy."

I scoff at that. "I wouldn't hold your breath for that one."

"Don't believe him, he's a natural," she insists.

Harry and Ron look at her oddly.

"What?" She asks as she takes in their expressions.

"Nothing," they say together.

"Come on, let's hear it."

"Secrets, Hermione," I gently remind her.

She frowns at the other two boys, but acquiesces. "Okay then, so are you guys ready to join us this afternoon? We've got Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures Monday morning, so we're going to review that. I _assume_ you're going to review Divination on your own, right?"

"Uh, right," Harry says, obviously lying. He and Ron continue to look at Hermione with a strange expression. I suppress a laugh, and Hermione just plows on.

"Then History of Magic on Tuesday morning, so maybe we'll get in a bit of that. William and I already finished reviewing Ancient Runes. Then it's Charms, Transfiguration, and DADA tomorrow."

Ron's eyes glaze over, but Harry looks confused. "Who's William?"

"Oh, uh, that's Bud's...er...real first name. It's a long story."

Harry chuckles. "Sounds like the whole story to me."

"Oh," Hermione says, getting a bit flustered. "Right..."

"Why don't you call Harry, Harold, then?" Ron asks.

"Because it's just Harry, Ronald. It's not short for anything."

Ron crosses his arms. "How do you know?"

"Harry?"

Harry shrugs. "I dunno. It'd be weird if you started calling me that now, though."

"How could you not—oh." Hermione flushes in embarrassment when she sees Harry staring flatly at her. Her eyes flicker to me and back to Harry. "Sorry."

Harry's eyes do the same thing. "It's okay."

I understand the nonverbal communication, perhaps even better than Hermione does. Harry doesn't know if his name really is Harold or not. In fact, I think he only learned his name when he went to kindergarten, or whatever they call it here. I change the subject. "I realized Bud sounds kind of silly when you guys say it...it's made for American accents I guess."

"So should we call you William, Bill, Will...Willy?" Harry asks with a grin.

Ron barks out a laugh.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione says.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, not sounding particularly so since his shoulder's are still shaking. "My brother's name is Bill so I can't do that."

I shrug. "Doesn't matter to me. Hermione chose William, so it might help avoid confusion that way."

"Right then. Well, blokes don't call each other by name much, anyway." Ron says.

Hermione rolls her eyes.

"How was flying?" I ask.

"It was fantastic," Harry says at the same time Ron says, "Bloody brilliant!"

"Since Quidditch got canceled, students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff took turns playing half-pitch, four-on-four pick-up games; that's three chasers and a keeper, first to ten goals," Harry says.

"We went undefeated!" Ron jumps in excitedly. "Oh, it was brilliant, you should've seen us! I was keeper, and it was Harry, Ginny, and Katie. You should've seen Fred's and George's faces when we beat them, Angelina, and Alicia – all four Sixth Years that would have been on the Gryffindor team! I'm telling you, we're going to be so loaded next year. Ginny might even give Angelina or Alicia a run for their money; her and Katie were brilliant together."

"Ron made some incredible saves, you should've seen it Hermione," Harry says, joining in Ron's excitement. "He was the best Keeper there! Only Angelina and Alicia scored more than five points against us."

"I wish we had Quidditch this year, we'd win the House Cup no problem," Ron says, puffing out his chest.

"Any Slytherins play?" I ask.

"Course not, they didn't even come out," Ron says mockingly. "Hiding in their dungeons, no doubt."

"Well maybe we'll come out next time you guys play some pick-up games," I say, glancing at Hermione. "Sounds interesting."

Hermione gives a lopsided smile, but says nothing.

"Mr. Lerner, will you come to my office, please?" Professor McGonagall says from behind me. Hermione gives a little jump.

"Sure," I say.

"We'll be in the library when you're done," Hermione says. Harry and Ron look like they want to groan, but they hold it in with McGonagall standing there.

"See you then," I say.

Once again Professor McGonagall is silent while she leads me at a brisk walk to her office. I barely even have time to look around, let alone peek in doors and down staircases and such. In short order she is shuffling me into her office and closing the door behind us. "Mr. Lerner, I followed up with the bursar as we discussed in our previous meeting, but unfortunately they couldn't give me any details except that there were no other funds set aside for your use. I'm sorry."

I nod, expecting as much.

Professor McGonagall sits behind her desk and raises an eyebrow at the lack of reaction. "The good news is that we retain extra supplies for all of our classes. I've already verified that your professors all have a copy of the required books set aside for you, though of course you will not be permitted to write in them as you might with your own copy. Professor Sprout has extra Herbology materials, and Professor Snape has a spare pewter cauldron and potion preparation tools set aside. These will be well-used, of course, but all are functional. Now, regarding writing supplies, I have prepared a pack for you from the teacher supplies, and you may come to me to retrieve more when necessary. These are provided by the Hogwarts general budget in unlimited supply, so do not concern yourself with the cost. However, I ask that you do not share this information. We do provide such packs to other students, but I ask the same of them. Even if you know somebody receives these packs, do not talk to them about it. Unfortunately, we cannot afford to supply the entire student body."

I assume Ron is one such student, but I simply nod once again. It would embarrass him to bring it up, anyway.

"Lastly, regarding robes. I have taken the liberty of placing an order for one full set of robes and underclothing from Madam Malkin's, along with a heavy cloak with a hat and a pair of gloves for winter from Second-Hand Robes. No, please allow me to finish." She holds up a hand to halt my objection before I even got it out. "This is not charity, or a gift. You will speak to your professors of choice to see if they are interested in your services, or you may choose to make it up to me directly. As both Transfiguration professor and Deputy Headmistress, I have plenty of things for you to do, especially if I only assign remedial work to any students that earn detentions. If you secure employment with another professor, I trust you to pass on your earnings at your discretion until you make up the difference. I will leave you the entire year to do so, but I assume you will want to do so more quickly in order to earn spending money for Hogsmeade weekends, Christmas, and other events."

The Yule Ball, obviously. Oh well, I'm an atrocious dancer anyway...at least I have a convenient excuse to avoid it. "Thank you, Professor, I really appreciate it. I promise I'll make it up to you as soon as I can."

"Good. I've got a task available this coming Wednesday night after dinner to prepare for your first Transfiguration class, if you'd like to get a head start."

"I would."

"Excellent, I shall expect you at seven p.m., Mr. Lerner. Now, I'm afraid I must impose upon you a bit further, and then you may join your friends in the library. One of Madam Malkin's assistants is here to take your measurements for your new robes. They will not be tailored due to time and cost, but the nearest pre-cut size will be delivered to your room by tomorrow night."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall, I really appreciate it." I do, even if I feel a bit wretched that she went ahead and spent her own money on me. I mean, sure she bought Harry a Nimbus 2000 a few years ago and that can't have been cheap, but that was Harry Potter. She probably felt bad for not standing up to Dumbledore about leaving Harry with his awful relatives at Durzkaban.

After a quick set of measurements by the pretty, young assistant to Madam Malkin and a quick word of farewell to Professor McGonagall, I was off to join the Herbology review. I may have had fun with Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, but Herbology and History of Magic?

I start to walk slower.

* * *

A/N:

Ron's willow wand is his second one and the first one that "chose" him. His first one was his brother Charlie's old ash wand, and was broken by the Whomping Willow in their Second Year.

The twenty four Proto-Germanic runes, also called Elder Futhark, are as follows, with their meanings according to runemaker dot com:

_Fehu_, the rune of wealth - Reward, Wealth, Nourishment  
_Uruz_, the rune of strength - Physical or mental strength, health. For a man - male virility, manhood. For a woman - fertility, femininity, womanhood.  
_Thurisaz_, the rune of chaos- Magical power, the forces of chaos or of evil. Temptation. A Warning.  
_Ansuz_, the messenger rune - Knowledge. Wisdom. Communication. The mouth. A message.  
_Raido_, the traveler's rune - A journey, arrival, departure. Union or re-union. Events concerning travel or vehicles.  
_Kaunan_, the rune of fire - Heat, light, enlightenment. Possibly mistaken: burning. an opening, ulcer or injury and thus mental anguish  
_Gebo_, the rune of love and forgiveness - Love, partnership. Forgiveness, gift, talent, skill or ability.  
_Wunjo_, the rune of joy - Happiness, light, emotional satisfaction.  
_Haglaz_, the rune of disruption - Weather, damaging natural forces. Disruption. Interference.  
_Naudiz_, the rune of necessity - Need, want, craving. demand, deprivation, compulsion, desire.  
_Isaz_, the ice rune - Ice, cold, freezing. Lack of change. Stagnation. Lack of emotion. Storing binding. Bridge across danger.  
_Jeran_, the rune of success and continuity - Harvest. The agricultural year. Fertility, fruition.  
_Eihwaz_, the rune of defense - Yew tree, archer's bow, weapon. Magic, deflection, prevention.  
_Perth_, the rune of luck - Mystery, chance, a gamble, pot luck. In modern usage - science and technology.  
_Algiz_, the rune of protection and opportunity - Protection. Safe refuge. Opportunity for growth. Rapid development.  
_Sowilo_, the rune of energy and revelation - Wholeness, light, energy. Victory. Discovery, disclosure.  
_Tiwaz_, the warrior's rune - Tactical genius, courage, bravery, dedication, daring. Protection on sea voyages. Negotiating and legislative ability.  
_Berkanan_, the rune of growth and fertility - Re-birth. New life. A new broom. Physical beauty or stature.  
_Ehwaz_, the rune of speed - Horse, beast of burden, steed or mount. Momentum, Speed.  
_Mannaz_, the rune of humanity - Mankind, humanity. The self, inner being, soul. Manhood, or womanhood.  
_Laguz_, the water rune - Cleansing, tide.  
_Ingwaz_, the rune of peace and harmony - Approval. Unity, agreement, love.  
_Odal_, the rune of home and family - Home or homeland. Hearth, family, inheritance, estate, possessions.  
_Dagaz_, the rune of transformation - Day. Daylight. Dawn. Breakthrough. Radical change.

Most of these are not in Harry Potter canon, but since _ehwaz_ and _eihwaz_ are Proto-Germanic, I'm just sticking with these for now. Presumably there would be other sources of ancient runes. For more information look up "Elder Futhark" on Wikipedia or go to runemaker dot com.

Note that after Hermione's Runes OWL, she refers to _ehwaz_ as the rune for partnership, but according to every reference I've seen partnership should actually be _gebo_. Since Hermione admits she was wrong already, I assume she is wrong about that as well.

Regarding the Arithmantic year: the Roman scholar Varro calculated Rome's founding to be 753 BCE, and this appears to be the consensus, but it is not necessarily correct.

Lastly, I forget which fanfiction I stole Durzkaban from, but I thought it was funny. I know I've seen it in more than one, but if anybody knows the original source I'd be happy to mention it here.


	5. Chapter 5: One Secret Down

Disclaimer: I tried adding a fudge factor to my Arithmantic calculations and they still came out saying Harry Potter is owned entirely by JK Rowling.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Five: One Secret Down**

"Are you _sure_ you had fun doing this all morning?" Harry asks me while Hermione is distracted by trying to show Ron how to properly revise. I'm surprised she thinks he'll get it after all this time.

I sigh. "I did this morning, but I'm not terribly interested in History of Magic or Herbology. I'm just glad I missed the whole mandrake lesson. Having a thin circle of material between me and potentially instant death is not something I'd consider enjoyable by any means. How the hell is that a Second Year task, anyway?"

He chuckles grimly. "Well, at least Second Years are too scared to do anything but exactly what the teacher says. I wouldn't put it past an older Slytherin to sabotage somebody's earmuffs. Luckily the baby ones aren't fatal."

"I suppose, still sounds pretty awful to me," I say. Actually it sounds worse than awful...I can't believe nobody has died from it before. "And don't get me started on this History nonsense."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asks.

"Look, it's obvious this stuff is heavily biased towards the Pureblood culture," I say, recalling one or two rather political pieces of fanfiction. "Note how every Goblin Rebellion is apparently the fault of the goblins, and conveniently there is no explanation for how we managed to enslave the House Elves, who appear to have magic just as strong as ours, if not stronger. The merpeople and centaurs are even considered magical beasts by your government, despite the fact that they can be just as intelligent as humans." At least the centaurs can be, I'm just guessing about the merpeople.

Hermione looks horrified, probably at the thought that a book could be wrong.

"Oh no, now you've gone and done it," Ron says.

"Don't you see Ron, it's exactly like I said, except it's not just House Elves that are mistreated!"

Oh no, not SPEW! She wastes so much time on it! I need to figure out a way to nip this in the bud. "I don't disagree, but I've heard that part of whatever magic enslaves them is a compulsion to serve a master, and taking that away is bad. I'm talking debilitating psychological effects, like severe depression and anxiety. Or maybe it's just such a deeply held societal belief that it might as well be true. I'm entirely against slavery, of course, but if freeing them affects them so terribly, I don't think we can do anything until we figure out which is the case." I know I read something like that in fanfiction, maybe it'll be enough to give her pause.

Hermione looks unhappy, but thankfully her attention is drawn away by Ron and Harry shutting their books.

"What are you guys doing?" Hermione asks as if they just insulted her.

"You heard the man, this is rubbish!" Ron says, gesturing at the book.

Hermione glares at me.

"Well, it is, but unfortunately they still test you on this rubbish," I tell Ron. "The Ministry is more heavy-handed here, so you can't escape one-sided propaganda like you can back where I come from." None of them look terribly convinced by that, so I try a different tack. "But, uh, maybe looking for that propaganda could make it more interesting."

"Like what?" Ron asks, furrowing his brows.

"I don't know, like, why would wizards allow goblins sole dominion over the entire British banking system after the last Goblin Rebellion? That doesn't make sense, especially if the goblins started it, as we claim. Wizards either screwed up big time at the negotiating table or weren't winning as handily as this book says they were."

All three look surprised by that, and I resist the urge to smile. It's not their fault they haven't read tens of millions of words that show off widely varying views of their world. Hermione recovers first. "Do you have non-goblin wizarding banks in the States?"

"I'm...not sure. I've never been to a bank before." A safe lie, given my apparent financial straits. "I only know of one particular Gringotts branch, but it's a big country."

As always bringing up money is a good way to distract them from digging too deeply into my background. After a few moments, Hermione changes the subject again. "Anyway, let's push through this stuff, I'd like to finish up before dinner."

We, of course, did not, evoking groans all around when Hermione says we have to come back.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Hermione and I look at each other, attempting to hold a silent conversation. My eyes flicker upward, and I think she understands I'm thinking about the Room of Requirement for continuing our studies, since today we're reviewing Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Potions. Since we were already in the library after dinner last night, we knocked out Astronomy as well. Luckily I knew quite a bit about astronomy. It took a lot out of me to not reveal that Pluto won't be considered a planet fifteen years from now.

Her eyes flicker to Ron and then she pointedly turns her head toward the Ravenclaw table, then frowns. Yeah, I don't think Ron would appreciate our morning sky-gazing session with Luna either.

My head tilts slightly towards Harry and I raise my eyebrows.

She gives a slight shrug and a nod. I think it means probably.

"Okay, you guys are freaking me out," Harry says, dropping his fork.

"What? I'm hungry!" Ron says, bits of food falling into his lap.

"Not you, these two snog buddies over here," Harry clarifies with jerk of his head in our direction.

Hermione huffs. "You were with us most of the day yesterday, remember?"

"Well, you wouldn't snog in front of us, would you?"

She rolls her eyes then looks at me questioningly. I nod, and she takes a deep breath. "We have something to show you after breakfast."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

Ron looks disgusted. "You guys aren't really going to snog in front of us, are you?"

Hermione scoffs. "No, Ronald."

I'm about to make a joke, but I note with some discomfort that she isn't sputtering with indignation like I might expect. The witticism dies on my tongue.

"What is it?" Harry asks, intrigued.

"Something William found on Friday," Hermione says slowly, glancing at me.

"You mean when you went to the hospital wing?"

"Yes, but that's not why he had to go," Hermione says. Even Ron appears to be intrigued enough to stop eating.

"When should we go?" Harry asks.

"If you're done, we can go now," she says.

Harry and Ron share a glance and almost immediately nod, so within moments we are making our way out of the Great Hall and up the stairs. When we reach the seventh floor, I am partially relieved and partially disappointed to not see Luna. A glance at Hermione tells me she feels the same. By unspoken consent we stop at the window anyway.

A few moments pass in silence, but Ron shifts with impatience. "So, is this it?"

I frown, and so does Hermione.

"It is a beautiful view," Harry says, gazing out the window.

"Yeah, I guess," Ron says. The silence is fleeting, too often broken by his uncomfortable shuffles and throat-clearing.

Hermione sighs. "This isn't really what we wanted to show you."

Ron lets out a relieved breath. "Oh good, that was getting uncomfortable."

She glares at him.

"Go easy on him, Hermione," I say. "He's got lots of siblings, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asks in a defensive tone.

Hermione's face softens, then she chuckles. "With Fred and George as your brothers, I imagine silence in your house means you're about to become the victim of a prank." Ron looks confused, but Hermione changes the subject. "Anyway, come on, what we really wanted to show you is over here." She turns to me when we reach the corner with the moving tapestry. "Shall I?"

"Be my guest," I say with a playful bow and a smirk.

She smiles back, and I can tell she's enjoying showing off a bit. After a pause to gather her thoughts, she walks back and forth in front of the wall. I hold my hand up to stave off the inevitable question from the other two boys, and watch for their reaction when the door appears. I'm not disappointed. Harry looks thoroughly surprised, and Ron takes a step back, looking a little scared. Hermione tugs the door open to reveal a smaller library, a larger sitting area, as well as an open space with a practice dummy. "Come on, we don't want anybody else to find out about this accidentally," she says.

I usher the two newbies in and Hermione closes the door behind us, which melts into the wall with the usual grinding and groaning.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement," Hermione says with a beaming smile.

"This is brilliant!" Harry exclaims.

"What is it?" Ron asks.

She holds out her hand and a book materializes in it. "It's a room that provides whatever I want, since I'm the one who asked for it," Hermione says.

"Hey, when did you become that handy in here?" I ask. "How come I had to carry all those books yesterday?"

She blushes. "I just figured this part out, actually. But we still need the library so I can make more generic requests. For example, I would not have known the name of that warding book to request it."

"This is really incredible, Hermione! You said you found it on Friday, William? How did you do that?" Harry asks.

"Ah, we had something similar at my old school, and I found out the enchantment was based on the one on this room," I explain, maintaining my cover story. "When I found out I was coming to Hogwarts, I did some research and found out the entrance was somewhere on the seventh floor."

"So who else knows?" Harry asks.

"Us four, and it has to stay that way," Hermione says firmly. "Not even the professors or Dumbledore can know!"

"Really, keeping secrets from professors now, are we?" Harry asks with a grin.

Hermione blushes. "William convinced me of the wisdom in that."

Harry and Ron look at me in awe. I shrug. "Well, to be fair I did kind of threaten her a bit."

"_What_?" Harry looks surprised and a bit offended. I see his hand hover over the pocket where I realize he must keep his wand.

So I answer quickly. "Yeah, I threatened to conjure her diary."

All traces of anger flee from his face, and then he bursts into laughter, joined soon after by Ron.

"_Dear Diary,_" Ron says in an imitation of Hermione's voice, "_I met a Yank on the train to Hogwarts. We snogged all day today._" He dodges an incoming swat and starts to run in between library shelves when he gets tossed backward by an invisible barrier.

"I would refrain from mocking the master of the Room, Ron," I say with a laugh.

"Right, now that we are all acting _mature_," Hermione says, emphasizing the last word with a glare at Ron, "we can get started with Charms."

Ron groans at the prospect of more studying.

"Well, I suppose we can start with practicals first, if you like," Hermione says in compromise.

I feel the blood drain from my face. Oh damn, how did I forget this part?

"Alright there, mate?" Harry asks.

No. "Yeah...yeah I'm fine." No I'm not.

Hermione sees me and says, "Okay, we'll start with some basic ones and work our way up." She guides us over to the open area and a desk appears with a feather on top of it. A very familiar-looking feather, which I am sure earned at least a scowl from me.

"Ron, you first," Hermione instructs. He does it, then Harry does it, then they all look at me. I tried to watch their wand movement, but I'm not sure I can fake it very well. With a gulp I step up to the feather, and look at my wand. I think back to my practice on Friday, and try to concentrate the way I did before: focusing on releasing a trickle of magic. Once I feel it nearing my hand, I move my wand slightly, hoping they think I made a tiny swish-and-flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

The feather twitches, but stays on the table. Son of a—

"Um...it's okay...just...try again, except this time maybe more wand motion," Hermione says uncertainly.

I don't look at her because my face is burning. Harry and Ron don't say anything behind me, but I can feel their eyes on me. I try again, this time closing my eyes and releasing a tiny bit more energy. But once again, my concentration is broken by trying to get the wand motion right, and the feather does a more violent twitch but still remains on the table.

I huff in frustration, Hermione inhales to say something, but I put a hand up to stop her. "Okay, I have to show you guys something. I was hoping to figure this out before classes started, but maybe you can help me..."

I hand my wand to a perplexed Hermione, and concentrate once again on the smaller trickle. I say no incantation, I just point at the feather. When the trickle of magic escapes my finger, the feather gently lifts off. I hold it still for a moment, then give it a bit of spin, then set it back down.

Silence. It's awfully anticlimactic, really, since there are no cool sound effects like there are in the movies.

"Blimey, you can do _wandless magic_?" Ron exclaims.

"Wandless, _nonverbal_ magic! Bloody hell, William, hardly anybody can do that!" Harry says.

Hermione looks shocked as well. "William, this is why you were magically exhausted, isn't it? Nonverbal magic is hard enough, but without a wand as a focus it takes more magical energy. As in orders of magnitude more! Has it always been this way for you?"

I freeze. What's the best way to answer that? The honest answer is yes, considering I'd never held a wand before Thursday morning. It would be nice to try a different wand, see if I can get that to do anything, but I don't think it'd be wise to do that in front of other people since I don't know the wand motions. But either response will lead to uncomfortable questions. So instead I shrug and ignore the last question, hoping to redirect their attention. "Last thing I remember before passing out was getting a bit overzealous with a Reductor Curse."

"A Reductor Curse! William, you know they don't teach that until later this year."

"Well we haven't had our DADA review yet, so no I didn't," I smile.

"And to do it wandlessly..." she shakes her head. "You're lucky you aren't in a coma."

I look surprised. "Really? I think if I hadn't wasted so much energy on the Stunner beforehand that I would have been fine."

She laughs. "William, that's another Fourth Year spell. You shouldn't even be awake, let alone standing here casting spells. But what's wrong with your wand?"

"I...don't know. It was given to me, so I don't know much about it."

"Well here, try mine," Hermione says. "Mine's dragon heartstring, so it should be more open to you than Harry's phoenix feather or Ron's unicorn hair."

I frown, but take it. I look it over, but I don't feel anything different.

"Well, give it a try," she says.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_."

No movement.

Hermione frowns. "I didn't notice anything particularly wrong except you could be a bit more crisp after the swish and also after the flick. Try it again."

I do, with the same results. "Does it...do you feel anything when you use magic?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like a rush from your stomach, then it flows through your arm. Almost like your circulation was cut off and your blood is rushing back into it."

Hermione looks at Harry and Ron, but all three seem perplexed. "That doesn't sound familiar..." She thinks a moment. "Okay, I'll try a higher level spell. You say the Reductor took the most out of you?"

"It did, but it was on purpose. The Stunner barely moved the dummy, so I put more energy behind the Reductor."

Her eyebrows knit and she presses her lips together. "Okay, I'll give it a shot." She turns to the dueling dummy. "_Reducto_!" A lemon-sized gouge sprays chips of stone onto the floor and the dummy swings back with the impact.

"Whoa! Nice one, Hermione," Ron says, clearly impressed.

"How was that?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "I can't really say. I guess maybe I can feel a very small amount of tightness in my gut, but it could very well be something else, like maybe I ate something that doesn't agree with me, or perhaps I didn't eat enough. I wouldn't even mention it any other time."

"That's pretty much what I felt, too, except it was much stronger. But you didn't feel any kind of flow or anything? Do you think you could make the spell stronger?"

She frowns. "I don't think so, and I'm not sure."

I scratch my head, sure I'm missing something.

"Why don't you try it, Will?" Harry says.

"No, Harry, did you forget about Friday already?" Hermione says.

"It's okay Hermione, I know what it feels like to use too much energy now."

Hermione looks at me worriedly. "Are you sure? I mean, how do you know you're even fully recovered?"

I shrug. "I don't feel any soreness in my abdomen. When I do I'll stop and take a break."

She sucks on her bottom lip again. "Well, fine, but don't overdo it. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be pleased to see you again."

"No, I don't suppose she would." I hold my arm out toward the dummy and concentrate. Without letting too much energy build up in my hand, I release a blue ball of energy and my arm jerks back in recoil. It slams into the dummy, obliterating a melon-sized chunk of the lower torso, propelling chunks of stone, pebbles, and dust out the back of the dummy toward the empty wall.

"Bloody hell that looks wicked!" Ron says excitedly.

"How do you feel?" Hermione quickly jumps in.

I shrug. "Mild discomfort. Like you said, I feel like I could eat something. If I were sitting at home I'd probably grab a snack or something."

She frowns. "Still, I don't think you should use magic for a bit. I wish there were some way we can monitor it."

"I'm getting the hang of how it feels. I think I could pull off a few more of those."

Her face darkens as she glares at me. "Don't even think about it!"

I laugh. "Hey, I'm not about to get on Pomfrey's bad side here, I'm just telling you where I think my limit might be."

She softens her glare, then purses her lips and taps a finger against them. "Well, I think it's worth testing how long your recovery time is."

I can agree to that. "Good idea. But how will we know when I'm fully recovered? With small spells I don't even feel a difference."

"I guess it doesn't have to be exact," she admits with a frown.

"Yes, yes, good, good. Is it my turn yet?" Harry asks, bouncing a bit.

Hermione turns her frown on him. "We aren't supposed to be practicing DADA spells yet."

"We might as well, now," he points out.

She sighs. "Okay, fine, but just the Reductor for now, then we'll go back to Charms."

"_REDUCTO_!" Harry bellows almost before Hermione stops talking. A large blue ball of energy envelops the dummy, completely disintegrating it, leaving a pile of smoky ash on the floor while the now loose chain swings back and forth.

"Sodding hell Harry you could have waited until after my turn!" Ron laughs.

"Harry is first in our year at DADA, William," Hermione says in explanation.

I laugh. "I'm not surprised, that was pretty awesome."

"How do you feel, Harry?" Hermione asks.

He shrugs. "Okay I guess. Since you two were talking about it I guess I feel a pang of mild hunger, but like you guys I wouldn't have noticed it otherwise."

"Hm, I'll have to think on that later," Hermione says. "Let's give Ron a shot, though we don't need to bother asking him how he feels afterward. He's always hungry."

"Hey, growing boy and all. But in case you didn't notice, Harry kind of destroyed the—" Ron stops as the Room both provides a pristine training dummy and removes the rubble.

Hermione smiles smugly.

"Show off," he mutters.

* * *

"No, I prefer making Potions as little as possible, thank you very much," Ron says.

"I have to agree with that," Harry says.

"You realize that without Professor Snape breathing down your neck, you'd probably be good at it, Harry?" Hermione points out. Ron doesn't seem to notice the mild slight against him.

"But what's the point if he's always going to be breathing down my neck?" Harry shoots back.

Hermione sighs. "Well, I _suppose_ we have been in here all day, so it won't be too bad to just skip the practical part – especially since we wouldn't normally be able to do so anyway. Thanks for studying with us, by the way, it really helped."

Ron snorts. "As if you needed it."

"It certainly helped me," I say. It did. I found out I can cast a decently-powered Reductor and recover in less than an hour. Although I wonder if using my magic is increasing my recovery time or the amount of magic I have in reserve. Or both.

"I got quite a bit out of it myself," Harry admitted.

Hermione beamed. "Good! I'm glad, Harry. You guys go ahead, I need to speak with William about something."

"Uh oh," I say.

"You're in trouble," Ron says in a mocking, sing-song voice.

"In danger of being snogged, more like," Harry says with a grin.

"Don't make me have the room toss you outside," Hermione warns in a rather nonthreatening manner. "I imagine the landing wouldn't be pretty from seven floors up."

"Well, it was nice knowing you, William, sorry about your luck," Harry says, still grinning. "By the way, can I have your bed? I think I'll move it next to mine to make it a double. See you at dinner, Hermione." He quickly ducks out of the Room to avoid a cushion that Hermione throws at him.

"Git! Sorry about them," she says, turning to me.

"Nothing to be sorry for, it's fun, playful banter."

She giggles. "I suppose it is."

"So what's on your mind?"

Her face instantly becomes serious. "William, have you always used that wand?"

My face blanks. There is much more to this question than meets the eye. I sift through possible ways this conversation could go. "No," I say.

"What happened to your old wand?"

"It was broken at the end of the last school year, a few months ago."

"Where did you get this one?"

"Hand-me-down from a relative. Not sure whose it was." I'm a little upset that I have to lie, so I feel like I have to add some truth. "I never got to use it before I got to Hogwarts."

Her lips purse. "Have you always been proficient at wandless, nonverbal magic?"

I almost sag in relief that I don't have to lie this time. "No."

She sighs, then runs her fingers through the bushy tangle of brown hair behind her head.

"You know, you don't have to beat around the bush, you can just ask me if you have a question."

She flushes in embarrassment and looks at the floor. "Sorry, it's just...something feels off here, and I can't puzzle out why. When we were doing that testing with our magic it almost seemed like you were brand new to casting spells, but I guess it makes a bit of sense if you'd never used that wand before and you've been using wandless magic lately."

Phew, I just dodged a bullet there.

"We're going to have to do something about your classes, though," she says, frowning in thought. "Unless you want everybody to know of your proficiency with wandless magic?"

Too much attention is bad, especially for me. "No, I would rather not."

She nods. "I thought not. Transfiguration won't be a problem – it seems to be perfectly suited to your method of casting since we've largely gotten past using incantations – but Charms and DADA will be an issue."

"When I was practicing on Friday, I figured out that I can say pretty much whatever I want as long as I don't think about it, but when I try to move the wand, it ruins my concentration for some reason."

"Hmm. It might be worth practicing that to see if you can at least fake it. If not...well, you should be able to get by in Charms for the most part, but Flitwick will be watching you closely for the practical midterm and final exams. I just don't know about DADA though – since we have a new professor every year I never know what to expect." Her face pales. "Oh no, William, what happens if you have to duel?"

I groan. "Well, I'll stick to Shield Charms and Stunners, I suppose. I shouldn't have to think too much then. But I'm really slow at casting right now. Maybe we should practice that, too?"

"We'll have to, I suppose, though you'll have to be careful not to overexert yourself. To be safe we'll need more than just two of us, and we'll need to make sure we can all cast _Rennervate_ in case the Stunners are strong enough to knock us out. Which you can be sure will be the case with Harry."

"Yeah. Remind me to never pick a fight with him, by the way."

* * *

"Okay, I'm ready," I say. I'm not.

Hermione stands across from me in a dueling stance. Oh damn, she's going to kick my ass.

Ron clears his throat. "Right then, you know the rules. Uh...three, two, one, go!"

I open my eyes to see Hermione's worried face hovering above mine. "Are you okay?"

"Sure," I say, a bit confused, "why wouldn't I be? I'm laying on this nice cushy—oh."

"Sorry about that..."

"No, no. That's good. I mean, good for you. I _think_ I remember seeing a red light first. How about two out of three? And you go blindfolded? With your right arm behind your back? And you stand on one leg? Hey, I'm just trying to make it fair!"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Come on, you aren't that bad!"

"Really? Let me guess, did I fall gracefully? Tell me honestly, did I at least look pretty while I got utterly destroyed?"

Ron clears his throat. "Actually you kinda kneed yourself in the face as you crumpled to the floor."

"To be fair, the blood coming out of your nose was dripping rather rhythmically to the floor, and you managed to artfully avoid getting any on your robes," Harry adds.

I laugh. "Well, there is that, at least."

"Can't you see I feel bad enough about this already?" Hermione pleads.

"I don't see why you would. I bet it was rather impressive, wasn't it, Harry?"

"It was."

"See? Alright, now about that rematch? This time I think I'll hold some magic at the ready so I can put up the shield right away. Let me know if it's obvious to you guys, okay?" I figure I can't just walk around with my hands glowing with magic all the time or something. Although that would be kind of awesome.

"Wait, you weren't doing that?" Hermione asks.

"Well, no, I thought it might be cheating a bit, being on the verge of using magic like that before we even started."

"Well do it this time," she says firmly, "I don't think it'll be cheating if you don't actually _use_ magic."

"That's why I asked them to watch, see if anything's off when I'm holding magic. Okay, Let's give it a shot. Harry, point your wand at me and be ready with those cushioning charms, if you don't mind. I'm not particularly looking for a broken nose right about now."

Hermione rolls her eyes, then goes back to her position and gets in the same stance. "Ready."

I concentrate for a moment, pulling out a stream of magic and gathering in my hand. "Please don't hurt me."

"Don't say that!" Hermione whines, dropping her stance momentarily.

"Sorry, I mean, ready!"

"Okay," Ron says. "Three, two, one, go!"

Immediately I throw up a shield charm. Nothing impacts it. "What are you doing, Hermione?"

"I wanted to make sure you got your shield up first!"

I drop my shield with a grunt of annoyance. "Hermione, that's not how it's supposed to—"

I open my eyes to find Hermione staring down at me. "Sorry," she says with a cringe.

I sigh. "Did I get blood on my robes this time?"

"Oh no, you just fell flat on your face," Harry says. "You must have been leaning forward this time."

"Wonderful."

"Don't worry, Harry got the cushioning charm up in time," Ron says cheerfully.

I give Harry a nod. "Thanks, dude."

"What's 'dude' mean?" Ron asks with a confused expression.

"Means 'bloke' in Yank-speak."

"Uh, why not just say bloke then?

"'Cuz that's not how I talk, guv'na."

"That was an atrocious English accent, William," Hermione says.

Damn, I thought it was pretty good at the end there. "Sorry, I'll work on it."

Hermione snorts but ignores me and walks back to her spot. Shortly after that we are both once again back in dueling positions.

"Okay, I'm really ready this time. No holding back, Hermione!"

She nods, face set in determination.

"Ready? Three, two, one, go!"

Once again my shield leaps into existence and this time a stunner splashes harmlessly against it.

Through the shimmering blue hemisphere, I hear Hermione cast another pair of them, which are also ineffective except for weakening the shield. It occurs to me that my shield is overkill, and so I pull a thread of magic out and try to connect it to the shield. As soon as the thread of magic touches it, it shifts, and I feel like I'm connected to it. Tentatively I try to pull some of that magic back into my body, and the shimmering shield dims. I can't tell if I'm getting anything out of it or not. I immediately stop, frowning, and I focus on making the shield smaller instead. It's faint, but I can feel it growing stronger as it shrinks. Then my vision fills with red.

I open my eyes to find Hermione's worried face hovering over mine. "Sorry!"

I snort out a laugh. "Hermione, I got distracted and you got me. Nothing to be sorry for."

Harry's throat clears behind me. "Er, well there was the blood we had to vanish again."

Hermione flushes with embarrassment. "Maybe we should take a break? You...well...you might want to take a Blood Replenisher before we continue." She gives a rather uncomfortable grimace at that.

I stare at her in shock, and then start chuckling. "Hermione, did you just make a _joke_ about beating the crap out of me for the last half hour?"

Her face blushes furiously red now. "Uh, actually you broke your nose this time, and you're looking rather pale."

The chuckling dies in my throat. "Oh. Damn. Well I've been here less than a week and I already got the crap kicked out of me by a girl."

"And what's wrong with that?" Hermione asks, torn between being offended and sorry.

"Oh nothing, nothing at all! On the contrary, normally I'd brag about that, but in this case I didn't even try to kiss you first. I suppose my friends don't have to hear about that part."

Her face turns red. "You prat!"

I smirk mischievously. "So if I ended up lying in a pool of my own blood twice already, what would happen if I really did try to—"

I wake up with Harry's and Ron's face leaning over me. "Alright there, William?" Ron asks.

"You really are a masochist, I think," Harry observes.

"A prat, I believe was the proper term," I say with a grin that hurts my head a bit. I must have hit it on the floor again. I glance around and find Hermione steadfastly not looking in my direction. "Hey Harry, can a guy get brain damage or something from too many Stunners?"

"Fred and George always say they used to drop me on my head a lot," Ron offers with a shrug.

Neither Harry nor Hermione say anything. That does not make me feel better.

A stray thought strikes me. I've been doing Harry Potter canon spells, but my magic doesn't seem to work like normal Harry Potter spells. I try to think of some cool spells from fanfiction that I can try, and one immediately pops into my mind. I smile widely. "I wanna try something else. Hermione, may I have a dueling dummy please? Extra large, if you don't mind."

The requested dummy materializes without Hermione turning around or speaking a word.

"Thanks, Hermione. I just thought of something, and you might want to watch to see if it works. You guys will want to stand back, and keep it a secret if it works." I concentrate, feeling the rush of magic gathering in my hand. "And if it works...take me to the infirmary if something goes wrong."

Hermione spins around but it's too late. I raise my hand toward the dummy. I don't need any incantation, but, hell, this is going to be awesome. "_Phoenix of Life, Salamander of Nature, Cerberus of Death, Forge of Man!_"

A stream of magic sends smoky orange and red light swirling around me, and the edges of my robe begin to ripple as a conjured wind starts to pick up.

"_What are you doing_?" Hermione's frantic voice calls out.

"_Bellows of the Forge! Eyes of ash, breath of fire, feather of flame! Four of eight Pillars, two of four Guardians, one of two Powers, attend me!_" Another stream of magic, and the light and smoke swirling around me intensifies. The light show is definitely beginning to drain me, but this is totally worth it.

"I'll stop him!" Harry says, pointing his wand at me.

"No, Harry!" Hermione jumps over and grabs his wand arm. "We don't know what it'll do to him! He has to stop himself!"

"_Divine conflagration! Cleansing inferno! Vanquish the darkness and bring justice to my enemies!_"

"STOP IT, WILLIAM!" Hermione screams. "STOP IT NOW!"

"_Ultima demi-flare!_ _INCENDIOS GRATA_!"

The lights coalesce in front of my hand, then a thick bar of superheated plasma explodes toward the dummy, launching my body in the other direction. Despite the vicious pain in my stomach I can't help but grin stupidly just before I black out.

* * *

"Welcome back, Mr. Lerner," the stern voice of Poppy Pomfrey booms in my sensitive skull.

I respond with a groan.

"Ah yes, I suppose your head hurts. Of course I expected your previous magical exhaustion episode to impart a sense of caution in you, but perhaps I was too forgiving with the pain potions. You need to sleep the rest of the night, and I will release you for breakfast. Good night."

* * *

A/N:

JKR initially used _Enervate_ as the incantation for the Reviving Spell, but that actually means "to weaken." So she officially changed it in later editions to _Rennervate_.

Astronomy is basically never discussed in canon, and not at all in Goblet of Fire. I guess it's possible that they only have it every other year or something. So keeping to that tradition, it gets merely a passing mention here. It has absolutely nothing to do with me being lazy, I totally swear.

The ridiculous ritual thing was mostly mine, except for _incendios grata_, which is from joe6991's _Harry Potter and the Wastelands of Time_. I was being truthful at the beginning of this fic: I really have read 50+ novel-length fics since then and that was the first non-canon spell I could think of. And I still sing _Hey Jude_ to myself on occasion because of it.

I believe Radaslab's deceptively-named political fic, _The Harem War_, contains the tiny bit of stuff in here about history, goblins, and House Elves (though he is overwhelmingly more thorough in his treatment). However I'm fairly sure I've seen those elements elsewhere as well, so I can make no promises on the actual source.

R & R, C & C


	6. Chapter 6: Parting Ways

Disclaimer: Not even overpowered fanon spells can take Harry Potter universe away from JK Rowling.

My first post-review note: A lot of people (including the few who read this story before I started uploading it) have trouble with the Bud/William thing. In case you haven't noticed, Bud A. Lerner is a play on my pen name butalearner (as in, "when we first met I was but a learner, now I am the master"). It really does sound awful if you try to picture a British person saying it, so I myself think of the main character as William.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Six: Parting Ways**

"Bloody hell, mate. That was wicked!" Ron says without preamble as I join the Golden Trio for breakfast.

I wince at the volume. "Remind me not to do that again." I glance at Hermione when she glares at me. It's not a playful glare, either; I'm fairly certain she's trying to burn a pair of eye-shaped holes in my head. "For at least another couple days," I add with a smile.

Shaking with anger, Hermione finally explodes. "You...you prat! You bloody prat! You scared the bloody hell out of me! Don't you even think—"

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, Hermione!" Her fury is not tempered in the slightest, and Harry and Ron are taken aback by her curses. "Look, Hermione, I wasn't really in any danger...I was just...I'm sorry for scaring you. And I'm kidding about doing it again. Pomfrey wouldn't give me pain potions last night. I'm not looking to go through another night like that."

Harry rubs her back and her wrath seems to abate as I do my best to look as sorry as I feel.

"What was that, anyway?" Harry asks quietly. "That...whatever you did actually _melted_ the dummy and then continued through it as if it wasn't even there, then impacted the wall and shook the room before you passed out and it died."

"Uh, just something I picked up."

"William," Hermione growls, then she takes a deep breath when Harry rubs harder to try and calm her again. "I couldn't find anything about that...spell...in the Room, if it even was a spell. It sounded more like a...like a ritual! A dark ritual!"

"Didn't sound dark to me," Ron says through a mouthful of biscuit. Not a cookie, I mean whatever they call the fluffy, flaky, bread-like things here. "I heard him talking about phoenixes and divine flames and justice and such."

"And didn't you say something about being at half power or something?" Harry asks. "I remember you saying, 'Four of eight' and 'two of four' something or other...I'd hate to see full power, if that were the case."

"Not every spell can be found in books, Hermione," I say with a secretive smile. At least, no books in this universe. Unless the Harry Potter universe is in fact part of the real world, in which case the main part of the spell won't be around until somebody makes it up a decade from now. But Hermione doesn't need to know that. "And Harry—"

"Can you teach me?" Ron asks excitedly.

I have to suppress a chuckle. "Sorry, I don't know the wand motions, if there even are any. And I might not have the incantation at the end right, I just thought it sounded awesome. Also, Harry, I just made up all that stuff at the beginning and wandlessly made all those lights swirl around me. I figured saying that was half power made it seem even more awesome."

Hermione's face flares up in anger again and Harry rubs her back again.

Ron deflates in disappointment. "Well it did look awesome."

I look at him askance. "Do you guys say 'awesome' here?"

He shrugs. "Just trying it out."

"That's brilliant, mate."

Hermione scoffs, after my banter with Ron combined with Harry's ministrations thankfully cools her temper. "Really William, that's positively awful."

"Hey, I'm trying!"

* * *

So far I'm keeping my promise to avoid magical exhaustion. Harry, Hermione, and I make it up to the seventh floor after breakfast to meet Luna the next weekend. Ron begs off, for which I was both thankful and surprised, considering how clingy he can be. Now that introductions are complete, we simply greet each other, stand in comfortable silence for a while, then say goodbye. It's a weekend, of course, but I still look forward to those times.

I am victimized early on by a rather mild prank perpetrated by the Twins, turning my robes a bright pink for that entire Sunday. It was nice of them to keep it to the weekend. They express disappointment that I do not rise to the challenge, instead immediately conceding that they are the greatest pranksters ever. Unfortunately I think this only serves to encourage them further. Not looking forward to that.

I make up a bit of my debt to Professor McGonagall, but I've still got a long way to go. She insists that my fetching and sorting tasks were worth a full galleon, even though I expected less. I guess I don't have a real solid feel for economics in the Harry Potter universe yet. I have no idea what the exchange rate is in 1994, but I figure a low end job in the US is probably around the equivalent of a galleon an hour, and the job only took me a half-hour. I don't argue too hard, because it means my debt is down to thirteen galleons and change.

Classes are actually going quite well, all things considered. I thank Hermione profusely, but any brownie points I win are immediately lost when I fall to my knees and insist I'm not worthy. Apparently she hasn't seen Wayne's World, or it isn't out yet in this reality. Oh well.

When Crouch-Moody walks in to DADA today it makes my skin crawl as usual, but I'm suddenly gripped with panic when he says he is going to cast Imperius on all of the students. Hermione brings up the illegality of it even with the headmaster's permission, and as soon as he offers Hermione the option to be excused, I shoot up out of my chair.

"May I be excused, Professor?" My voice quakes with fear, but I don't care. Maybe that will help my case. I don't care if it's illegal, it's the possible effects that have me scared to death. I don't know what information Crouch can pull from my mind, but I'm not taking any chances. It might not work quite like Legilimency, but he could probably order me to say why I'm afraid.

Yeah, that would definitely be bad. Standing up and saying, 'because you're Barty Crouch Jr. using Polyjuice potion to imitate Alastor Moody' is a good way to end up on the receiving end of a killing curse.

He waves his hand and grunts in a gesture that I assume means I can go. I hear some jeers behind me quickly cut off by the impostor before I flee the room.

* * *

"Is everything okay, William?" Hermione asks when they find me at dinner after class, most traces of indignation from our little spat a week earlier gone from her voice. Even though she's worried about me, I can tell she's still a bit unhappy with me. She and Harry sit across from me, Ron sits next to me.

I nod. "Yeah." I don't elaborate at first, but her fidgeting is enough to tell me she would like me to do so. I sigh. "I don't know how the Imperius curse works exactly. For example, would he be able to see thoughts? Memories?"

Hermione's face pales.

"Why—oh..." Ron says.

"Yeah," I say.

"I don't think so...I mean...it probably just..." Hermione starts, but trails off.

"We'll have to be more careful," Harry says.

"You don't need to," Ron says, then turns to me. "You should have seen it, William. Harry can throw off the Imperius curse! Only wicked powerful wizards can do that, you know."

"That's amazing, Harry," I say, trying to sound surprised despite the fact that I already know. "I may not know how it works, but I know enough to say he's right."

Hermione leans over and whispers in Harry's ear, after which he nods. Then Harry turns and whispers something in Hermione's ear, after which she nods as well.

Ron raises an eyebrow at me, then clears his throat. "You know, I don't want to get in the middle of it, but if you two are going to start snogging, you might have waited until Hermione's old snogging partner isn't around." Ron jerks a thumb at me.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald. William, will you meet us in the seventh floor corridor after dinner? Ron, Harry, and I have to run back to the dorms, but we'll meet you there."

I think I have an idea of what they're going to do. "More secrets, eh?" I ask with a smile.

Hermione looks troubled by that and appears to want to say something, but she merely sighs. "We all must have our secrets, I suppose."

"Yes. Yes, we must."

I eat the rest of dinner making small talk and listening halfheartedly to Ron's brothers discussing how Dumbledore might enforce the age limit and ways to get into the Tournament. I'm thinking about what secrets the Trio is apparently going to tell me, and what I'm going to do about it. Not for the first time I'm considering the ramifications of dropping my knowledge at different points in time.

Yes, I could probably stop Crouch by going to Dumbledore right now. I have to say probably, though, because damn those fanfic authors who point out how ridiculous it is that Dumbledore could be fooled so many times in a row, therefore coming to the conclusion that he is actually evil. What if he is, and Harry really does just get insanely lucky in canon? Well, that's no good to think about. Assuming Dumbledore is indeed a true Champion of the Light and he does stop Crouch, what then?

Harry never gets transported to the graveyard. Voldemort either bides his time and captures Harry later, or comes back without the blood protections. That's not a terrible possibility, considering I can also tip Dumbledore off about the Horcruxes. Or I can try to bust out of here and find them myself, although how I would get into the Lestrange vault is beyond me.

Alternatively, I spring a trap at the graveyard itself, not showing my hand until Voldemort is about to come back. Risky, considering the fact that I'm changing things now, and Harry could end up dead. Or Cedric could grab the cup before Harry gets his hand on it. I could still try the Horcrux hunt on my own, but the same problems with that plan remain.

I put a cheery face on when the Trio takes off, but I'm back to brooding in no time. Damn, what am I going to do?

"Well, well, if it isn't the poor f-f-frightened f-f-foreigner," a haughty voice pretends to stutter behind me.

I turn to regard a sneering Draco Malfoy, framed by his two hulking minions. Suddenly remembering another fanfiction, I smile. "You have minions? That's awesome! I've always wanted minions. How do you get them?"

He's thrown off by my lack of Harry Potter-esque retort. Sorry, Draco, not my style. His trademark sneer returns in no time. "Like a scared little Gryffindor could ever have minions."

"Well, I'm not sure if I even want them. Do they have a talking, magic-wielding kind, or just the silent, menacing type?"

Draco sneers at me. "They do not speak until I give them leave."

"Yikes. Hey gentlemen, if you want to be my minions I'll let you talk and everything."

"Don't try to steal my minions!"

"Hey, it's not stealing if they come willingly. But okay, I'll stop trying if you say so. Do you have any leads on other potential minions? It looks like you've cornered the market on large and menacing, but I gotta start somewhere."

Draco looks confused, glancing around. His face turns red when he sees the Twins snickering at him. "What are you laughing at, blood traitors? You couldn't afford minions anyway."

Ah, apparently he doesn't know about my abject poverty. "Hey Fred and George, are you interested in being my minions? I can be yours, too."

"Having minions doesn't work that way!" Draco says hotly.

"Sure, Bud, we'll be your minions if you'll be ours," one of them said.

"Hey, Lee, will you be my minion? Fred will be yours." Ah, so the first one was Fred, and that's George. I still won't be able to tell them apart.

Fred gasps theatrically. "Hey!"

"Wait, I wanna be a minion, too!" a voice I don't recognize calls from further down.

Draco walks away in disgust and Fred and George break out in laughter.

I stand up and walk away in satisfaction as the rest of the table is still trying to secure mutual minionships.

* * *

When I reach the seventh floor corridor, I stand at the usual window, looking out over the evening sky. The shadows falling in the opposite direction lend an almost entirely different look to the surrounding land, even though I can recognize individual features when I focus on them. I have a feeling the trio will probably show up under Harry's invisibility cloak, but on a whim I walk around to the other side of the quad to see if Luna's there. Once again I'm disappointed to find she is not.

I return to the usual side at the top of the stairwell, but instead of gazing outward I sit in silence, listening to every sound. I'm determined to hear them approach, but the ambient noise and distant clatter in the castle will make it difficult.

Or so I thought. It isn't long before I hear rustling, and opening my eyes a moment later I see a quick flash of the boats that Ron calls shoes. I stand up and give a wide smile to where I think their faces are. "Now that's a cool toy."

Hermione throws it off in a huff. "We wanted to surprise you," she says in her whiny voice. "How did you see us?"

"Secrets, Hermione," I say with a smile. She looks annoyed at me. "Okay, okay. If it were just you and Harry you guys might still fit," I say sympathetically. "Ron is going to have to crouch down if he goes with you."

She huffs in indignation. "I told you, Ronald!"

"Hey, it's not like we're doing anything bad this time anyway," he says in his defense.

"This time?" I ask, eyebrow raised.

Hermione glares at Ron. "Come on, I'll get the Room set up."

A short time later the four of us are seated comfortably in a relatively small study. I say relatively small because we've been using this as a part-library, part-dueling pit, part-potions-lab, part-sitting room, et cetera almost every time. There is still a respectable library here.

"Okay, William, since you found this place and have helped us quite a bit, we're going to let you in on a little secret," Hermione says.

"Ooo, dramatic. So are you the evil Dark Lady bent on taking revenge against the righteous forces of Severus Snape and his trusted lieutenant and sometimes lover Draco Malfoy?"

Harry bursts out laughing. Hermione does not find this as amusing as I do. "There are so many things wrong with that image that I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. I think the nightmares will be quite enough. I'm serious, William."

I bite back the obvious Sirius joke here. "Okay, so what have you got?"

"We've got a way to make sure nobody will ever see us come in here."

Ah, yes, that. I play dumb. "The cloak?"

"No," Harry answers, moving to kneel on the floor then spreading out a folded sheet of parchment on the coffee table in between us. "This. The Marauders' Map."

I join him on my knees, leaning over to study the Map. The movies don't really do it justice, it's really incredible. My eyes find Moody and Crouch next to each other, and my blood runs cold.

"What's wrong, William?" Hermione asks.

Damn, she must have seen my face pale. "Uh..." I glance around on the map, trying to think of something. Oh yeah! "We're not on it?" That's a pretty lame excuse, I know, but at least it took their attention away.

"That's impossible," she says, and starts searching for us herself. After a few moments, she looks back up with a frown. "You're right..."

"This has never happened before..." Harry says.

I know the answer, of course, but I let them stew on it.

"Maybe we aren't on it anymore?" Ron offers.

"I didn't do anything to it," Harry says, "and even if I had thought of trying to remove us, I've only known William for a couple weeks, so I wouldn't have thought to go back and remove him, too. No offense, William."

"None taken," I say. I almost say more, but I figure I should let them figure it out.

"Maybe we should ask somebody," Hermione says.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't. "What if it's just the Room? It's not on here, is it? Maybe the people who made it couldn't add it since it changes shape or something."

"Or maybe they just never knew about it!" Hermione says excitedly. "That has to be it. That's brilliant, William!"

I shrug, feeling uncomfortable for taking credit. "The people who made this are the brilliant ones. So Harry or Hermione hides under the cloak and consults the Map, making sure the coast is clear for the rest of us. I guess it'd look least suspicious if I were the one hiding, but I think my feet would be visible under the cloak. Hermione's probably the next best choice."

"Why?" Ron asks.

"I think I get it, William. We three have been friends all this time, people might ask questions if it looks like Ron and I ditched Harry and William was there. But if I wasn't around, people would probably assume you guys ditched me in the library." Hermione then puts on a fake pout. "Prats."

"Makes sense," Harry says.

"So it's agreed then," Hermione says with a nod of finality. "And we can check the corridor right here before we leave."

"Smashing," I say, trying out more British-style slang. That one actually doesn't sound too different with a British accent, so I like it. "Now, what say we bring up a dueling dummy and melt it?"

Hermione lands a solid whack. "Don't you even—"

"Kidding! Kidding!" I say rubbing my shoulder. "So what's the plan, my Mistress? How may I serve the Dark Lady Hermione?" I duck another swing.

"Well, William the Great Prat, I actually wanted to find out some information on the Imperius Curse, to see if there might be a way to throw it off."

"We already know that. Just be wicked powerful, right Harry?" Ron asks.

"Yes, I suspect that could be a solution to most problems in the wizarding world," Hermione says wryly. "But until then, it would be nice to find alternative solutions."

Hermione hands Harry and Ron one book each, and sets her stack of books in front of us, gesturing for me to grab one. I swipe the one off the top and settle in. Unsurprisingly Hermione was quite thorough in collecting potential sources. This one is an account of one of the first wizards accused of using the Imperius curse after it was made Unforgivable in 1717, an effort led by then Minister for Magic Eldritch Diggory. The accused wizard staged a significant legal battle that split the opinion of the Wizengamot almost down the middle, partially because some members felt the relatively young Ministry of Magic had usurped its authority. The Wizengamot traces its roots to the Wizards' Council that had been around since the time of the Founders, while the Ministry of Magic was formed about a century prior to the trial. I try to skim through unimportant parts like legal proceedings, but I keep finding potentially promising tidbits of information. For example one alleged victim claimed to have resisted the curse using 'mind magic,' but unfortunately no further details were given. I'm fairly certain this refers to Occlumency, but I suppose there are other types of mind magic than what was discussed in canon.

I glance up and it looks like Ron is nodding off. Harry is flipping through pages as if he's looking through a magazine. Hermione, on the other hand, is in the zone. Sighing, I leave a placeholder on the page that refers to mind magic and continue. A short time and no further leads later, a sigh of disgust from the chair next to me signals the time for the first discussion.

"No luck?" I ask.

She sighs again. "Not really. These ones only really discussed possible ways to recognize victims under the Imperius curse. I think there is something to your theory about only finding books in the castle if all we have to work with are scraps like this. Did you have any luck?"

"A bit. This is an account of the trials of a wizard accused of using the Imperius curse shortly after it was made Unforgivable. He used it to influence a string of Wizengamot votes, and was caught by the key witness who claims to have resisted it using what he called 'mind magic.' Does that sound familiar to any of you?"

Ron shrugs, Harry shakes his head.

"Well there's the Memory Charm _obliviate_, used to modify memories," Hermione pointed out. "I suppose that's a type of mind magic, though I can't imagine that's what he meant."

I sigh. "I'm thinking it might refer to Occlumency, but I was hoping you guys might have heard of something else."

"What's Occlumency?" Hermione asks.

"Mind you I'm not an expert, but as far as I know it's simply the way you defend against Legilimency, which is the magical way to read someone's mind. That victim doesn't even have to be a willing participant; a master Legilimens can pull memories out of your brain that you didn't even know you had. So I guess Occlumency is the way to stop it." I have to be careful because I'm not sure what tidbits are from canon and what's from fanfiction, which has explored this particular branch of magic quite thoroughly. For example I remember something called a perfect Occlumens who can feed false memories to even the most skilled Legilimens. Makes sense to me, but I can't remember where I got that. Or even if Legilimens is the proper term for someone who practices Legilimency, or if it's just the incantation. Oh well.

"That's great, William, that gives us a place to start!"

"To start, maybe," I say with a frown, "but I'm not even sure it would work."

"Maybe we can ask Moody," Hermione suggests.

"I think perhaps Professor Dumbledore would be a better choice," I counter. Even though Crouch helps them out on occasion, obviously I'd rather they not confide in the Death Eater at all, but I can't figure out a way to convince them of that. "Snape also has skills in both, but I don't imagine you'll want to ask him," I say with a smile.

Hermione looks shocked. "How do you know that?"

"Ah, I have a bit of skill in Occlumency," I say, not knowing if that's really true despite what the Hat said. "When Snape asked me about my background in Potions I felt something when I met his eyes, so I quickly looked away."

"That can't be legal!" Hermione shrieks.

"I don't know if he was actually trying to read my memories, or just figure out if I was lying. I think he was just satisfied enough when I admitted I'm not very good at Potions. He seems to respond well to my self-deprecating statements; he hardly looks my way."

"You shouldn't have to do that, William," Hermione chides.

"No, but sometimes you have to deal with teachers with a superiority complex. As long as I'm learning, I don't really care if he thinks I'm worthless." I glance at Harry. "Although if I started sticking up for myself it might take some heat off you, Harry."

"I wouldn't count on it," Harry says. "He's had it out for me ever since my first day, and is always calling my father names. They must have some kind of history. In any case I just try to keep my head down, like you, so I couldn't ask you to do anything else."

I stay silent. I would do something if I could, but I really can't afford to have Snape find out who I am, or where I'm from, rather. I don't know exactly what he can find out without the incantation. "Sorry, Harry, I would...I wish I could."

He waves it off. "Don't worry about it. So are we going to ask Dumbledore, then?"

"We could see if he's available right now," Hermione suggests. "We've got plenty of time until curfew."

"Uh, do you guys mind if I sit this one out?" I ask.

"Why's that?" Ron asks, perplexed.

"I...uh, would prefer it if I could draw as little attention to myself as possible."

"But William, you might be on to something here, and it wouldn't be fair not to credit you with the idea," Hermione says.

"No, no, that's okay. Just say 'we' found it while researching ways to resist the Imperius curse, and don't elaborate. It's the truth, after all."

Hermione gives me an unreadable look. "I don't like how easily you lie, William."

I wince at that. I'm not gonna lie, it hurts. "Hermione..."

Harry saves me from responding. "Hermione, he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, and we should respect that. In fact, I've wished I could do the same ever since I got here. I'm not about to drag him into any kind of spotlight if he doesn't want to be."

"Harry, you know what kind of damage other people's secrets have caused you in the past," Hermione points out. "You of all of us should be wary of that."

Harry wants to reply but I jump in. "Thanks, Harry. And I know, Hermione, it comes down to secrets once again. I swear on my life and my magic that I'm on your side, but I really can't give them up. Not yet."

I see Harry and Ron glance back and forth between me and Hermione in my peripheral vision, but my eyes are still locked on hers. She turns away. "And what side is our side, exactly?" She asks after a moment.

"Your side. Not Voldemort's. Not the incompetent elements of the British Ministry." I pause. "Not even Dumbledore's. Just yours."

"That doesn't make sense, William! You've only just met us!"

"Would you believe it if I said—"

"No," Hermione cuts in. "No, I wouldn't." Her hard look combines all of the mistrust and anger she's built up for me since the whole ritual thing.

My gaze drops to the floor. "I'm sorry, guys, the truth is part of my secret, and I just can't... I'd understand if you want to cut me out. I'll leave you guys alone if you want me to."

She runs her fingers through her hair, sighing. "Maybe that would be best."

"Hermione!" Harry says incredulously.

"Harry, think about it, how long have we known him? And yet, we've already told him secrets that less than a dozen people know, including us?" Her eyes widen at her own statement, as if she hadn't realized what they've done. She really gets on a roll after that. "Why would he be so friendly to us right away, and how does he seem to know us so well? How does he know all these things? Something is off about him, Harry, and you know you have to be careful!" Well that's not good. It looks like she's thinking all the way back to when we met, because her glare beats down harder and harder as time goes on.

Harry looks troubled, while Ron looks confused. I have to look away from all three.

"She's right, Harry, you should be cautious," I say. I'm somewhat proud of the fact that my voice doesn't waver at all, though it might sound a bit emotionless because of it. "I can't really blame her, since a few days after I met you guys I practically told her much the same thing. It's fine. It's not like you can't change your minds later if you want, once you figure out I'm sincere."

Hermione turns her back on me, and Harry and Ron both plop onto a chair. When it looks like nobody is going to speak, I go ahead and continue.

"I could use some more spare time, anyway. I need to talk to some professors about possibly taking me on for some part-time work so I can pay McGonagall back as soon as possible." I turn and start for where the door would be, but I stop after a few steps and turn my head slightly to speak over my shoulder. "Oh yeah, is the coast clear?"

"Yes," Hermione says after a pause.

It feels like both she and Harry want to say more, but I cut them off. "See you guys around, then."

"William!" Hermione says, voice thick with emotion. I continue walking toward the door. "Just...be careful."

As I open the door, I chuckle softly, then look back at them. "Aren't I always?"

The door shuts behind me, and I wince at the sudden pain within my chest cavity as I lose my only friends here.

* * *

"Welcome, Mr. Lerner, have a seat," Professor McGonagall says, studying me over her glasses.

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor."

"I am Head of Gryffindor House, Mr. Lerner. I would be remiss if my students did not feel they can come to see me whenever I am available. Now, what can I do for you? Did you speak to other professors about part-time work?"

"I did. Professors Babbling, Vector, and Sinistra all said they would think about it, but none of them seemed too keen on the idea. Professor Hagrid seemed flustered at first, saying he wasn't sure if it was proper. He was doing some woodcarving, and when I expressed an interest he dug out a basic set of palm tools for me to borrow, since they're too small for him. After he taught me a bit he said he'd bring my request up to the headmaster to see if he could do anything."

"That seems promising."

"Yeah, though hopefully it's something for helping out the younger years. I'd prefer not having to deal with those blast-ended skrewts any more than I already have to. The ones with scorpion stingers make my skin crawl."

She chuckles at that. "Indeed. It's unfortunate that the other professors weren't interested. Did you tell them why you were looking for work?"

I feel my face flush. "Not really, I'm...well, a little embarrassed about it," I admit.

She frowns sympathetically. "I'm sure I could speak to them on your behalf."

"No...I really appreciate what you did and what you're doing for me, Professor, but I'd rather not they hire me out of a sense of pity. I'm really interested in Runes, so maybe when Professor Babbling gets to know me better she'll reconsider."

She closes her eyes and sighs deeply. "It is not weakness to ask for help when you need it, Mr. Lerner. In any case, I have additional tasks for preparatory tasks for you tomorrow evening and the night after, if you're interested."

I nod eagerly.

"Good, I'll meet you here at seven o'clock after dinner tomorrow, Mr. Lerner. Good night."

* * *

A pair of even easier tasks that made up two more galleons of debt later, I found myself facing another lonely weekend ahead of me. After spending the first few meals with only my thoughts, I began sitting with Neville, Dean, and Seamus during meals, including the current breakfast Saturday morning. Dean and Seamus always go off on their own tangents while Neville and I sit in silence, and today is no different. I study the other quiet boy, and I find with some surprise that he doesn't seem nervous or awkward, more that he's just content with silence. That reminds me of something...or someone, rather.

"Hey Neville, can I show you something after breakfast?"

He jerks at being addressed so suddenly, then blushes in embarrassment. "I-I guess so."

I give him a nod and return to my breakfast. Some of the things they serve are a bit bizarre, like Marmite, which supposedly goes on toast but looks like something that should come out of a car's oil tank when the owner waits too long to change it. I suppose it wasn't the worst thing I've ever tasted – that honor belongs to the time I tried to make my own Vietnamese food. I don't know what Vietnamese chefs do to make fish sauce not taste like liquid salt, but – actually, Marmite reminds me of a more paste-like version of plain fish sauce. But I digress. I do find it appalling that I never ate poached egg in the States.

After breakfast, Neville and I climb the steps to the seventh corridor, and I smile widely when I reach the top.

"Hello again, William, I see you've brought another friend," the familiar sing-song voice greets me. I smile and give Neville the same silent instructions as I gave Hermione. I'm surprised that after a moment, Luna leans up against me slightly after a short time. Tentatively I drape my arm across her shoulders, after which she hums contentedly and continues to gaze out the window.

Strangely, it doesn't feel awkward at all when I eventually detach from Luna and turn to leave, only to find Harry and Hermione on the other side of Luna. We share small, sad smiles before I turn to the newcomer. "You can stay if you like Neville, I'm just on my way to meet Hagrid anyway. I know I'd prefer to stay otherwise."

"Are you sure?" Neville shifts uncomfortably. "I-I've never seen anything so...so..."

"Definitely, and I agree. See you around, guys."

I make my way down the stairs, feeling some eyes on me as I go, but I continue walking. As I go I try to remember what the trio is up to, and I can't come up with anything between now and the time Beauxbatons and Durmstrang show up. I think Hermione does some S.P.E.W. stuff. Oh yeah, I think Harry trades letters with Sirius a few times about his dream earlier in the summer. I can't think of anything for Ron at all; I just know he gets all jealous when Harry's name comes out of the goblet. I suppose everything went fine without my interference up until the Third Task - except the Yule Ball fiasco for which I hope to give Harry a nudge in the right direction - so they're certainly fine for now.

A stray, inane thought strikes me immobile: I wonder if I could beat the age line, considering my real self is over seventeen?

* * *

A/N:

It looks like, historically, a galleon an hour might not have even been a little high for the absolute lowest end job. I have no idea how it might work in the wizarding world, though I imagine there is no such thing as a minimum wage.

Expanded history: Eldritch Diggory was supposedly one of the most accomplished Ministers for Magic, according to Pottermore. There is no date given, so I took liberty with that. The Wizards' Council was essentially a small group of wizards that ran everything. Sometime between 1600-1629, the Ministry of Magic was formed to provide some checks and balances.

I've never had marmite and it sounds absolutely disgusting, but I would definitely try it.

Palm tools are for small woodcarving projects, or detail work on larger ones.

Fanfiction references in this chapter all point to LessWrong's _Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality_, the fic that started it all for me when I happened across it on Goodreads one day. It's unfinished, and has fallen off in later chapters in my opinion, but the beginning is incredible. There seems to be a lot of hate for it, though, so perhaps the novelty of the entire fanfiction universe to me colored my perception of it.

R & R, C & C


	7. Chapter 7: The Goblet of Fire

Disclaimer: I went to enter my name in the Goblet of Fire to compete for ownership of Harry Potter, but I couldn't get past the JK Rowling line.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Seven: The Goblet of Fire**

My exile from the trio has proven quite productive. After a number of failed starts, I've created a miniature oak Quidditch goal hoop. The hoop is not hollowed out, however – a circular groove on either side shows how it might have been, but in the center of the circle on one side is an etched _eihwaz_ rune, which stands for defense. On the other side is an etched _jeran _for success, with the implication that defense is the key to success. The hoop – Ron's second Christmas gift – was among the easiest of the ones I had planned. I also made a thin but sturdy oak bookmark for Hermione with an _ansuz_ and _sowilo_ pair – which look roughly like an F with the two lines slanted downward and a capital sigma, respectively – to represent wisdom and discovery, as well as circular medallion for Neville with a _tiwaz _rune – which simply looks like an upward pointing arrow – for courage. That one is not finished, however – I'm planning on etching a relief of a lion on the other side, but based on the reference images I found in the library, I don't think I have the skill for such details, yet.

That brings me to my largest project: five picture frames. Ron's is going to be simpler and have a different picture than the others, so my first attempt will be good enough for him. This second attempt will be Neville's, then I'll work on Harry's, then finally Hermione's and Luna's last, the latter two of which will have the most detail. Thankfully I've already approached Dennis Creevey – who is still friendly to me since the Sorting – to get his and his brother's help with the pictures themselves, in exchange for tipping them off about good opportunities to snap photos of Harry.

Even better than the headway I've made towards Christmas presents is the fact that I squared my debt to Professor McGonagall a few days ago, and that was entirely through her. I managed to make a few extra galleons helping out Hagrid as well. Professor Babbling still hasn't given me any paid work, but I got her to agree to loan me a set of rune-etching tools and some raw materials for the set of ward stones I had planned as another Christmas present. That's effectively just as good as galleons.

Unfortunately, though, Professor McGonagall said that the Ministry would not be hiring students, a fact which I shared with a heavily disappointed Ron one night. We still chat about inconsequential things in the dorm, Harry, Ron, and I, but I avoid discussing Hermione and turn down their offers to do stuff together. I really don't want to drive a wedge between the three of them, because there will be plenty of that in short order.

Now, the entire student body stands outside at dusk watching for the arrival of the two foreign delegations – most scanning the path to Hogsmeade – and my stomach is fluttering in anticipation. It seems like an eternity before the enormous flying carriage pulled by winged horses materializes in the eastern sky. Everybody is suitably impressed, and despite seeing something like it on film, I have to admit I am as well. Likewise when Madame Maxine makes her appearance. After she exchanges a few words with Dumbledore, the Beauxbatons students emerge from the carriage as well. I'm thrown off for a moment when I realize some of them are male, though I should have realized the movie was just being ridiculous when it showed all female students from Beauxbatons and all males from Durmstrang. The French students are all shivering since they appear to be wearing quite thin, shiny, powder blue robes. I'm not gonna lie, buried in a sea of anonymity, I allow my eyes to feast unabashedly on one Fleur Delacour.

Note to self: never ever introduce padded bras to the wizarding world.

Only slightly less impressive, once the aforementioned gorgeous witch is tragically ushered inside with her classmates, is the Durmstrang ship pulling the old Flying Dutchman move while looking like the Black Pearl from Pirates of the Carribbean. The apparently derelict ship docks and begins to empty, and I see that Karkaroff looks absolutely slimy, as expected. I sidle over toward the trio to catch Ron's reaction at seeing Krum. I'm not disappointed.

"Harry, it's Krum! I don't believe it! Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," Hermione says exasperatedly.

"_Only a Quidditch player_? Hermione – he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

I shake my head. You'd think having the most famous person in Britain as a best friend would kind of get you used to it.

As we eat some interesting ethnic food in honor of our guests, I watch the foreign students closely...which is to say I spend most of the time watching Fleur. I'd like to think it has nothing to do with the fact that she's quarter Veela, but that's probably not true. She actually comes over to the Gryffindor table to get more bouillabaise, and I can proudly say I manage not to do anything to try and get her attention. I don't even drool that much. In fact, when Hermione glances around to get a look at how the other boys are acting, I manage to have my mouth closed _and_ roll my eyes when her eyes pass over me. Taking advantage of my good luck, I do spare a glance elsewhere...I had forgotten what an ass Karkaroff is to any student who isn't named Viktor Krum. Why did the Death Eater even bother bringing anybody else?

Soon Dumbledore introduces Crouch Sr. and Ludo Bagman, the latter of whom was never in the movies, so I get to see him for the first time. He looks like a bastard. Then the headmaster has Filch roll out a gem-encrusted casket that I don't remember from the movies. After tapping the lid with his wand, he pulls out the Goblet of Fire. I gawk along with the rest of the students, and idly I wonder if Crouch Jr. already got to it. I suppose he wouldn't need to do so, since he can use Moody's eye to watch for when the coast is clear.

Actually, that's something. If I sat and watched the Goblet the entire time, would he still do it? Even assuming I could stay awake, getting in his way could be very bad. In any case, I could just be wasting my time if he already put Harry's name in. I need that time to get back in Hermione's good graces so I can be in a position to help Harry.

Now I have to figure out how I'm going to do that.

* * *

Despite racking my brains I don't come up with anything that night, or the next morning during breakfast. I watch Fred and George fail to cross the age line, and it reminds me of my brief pondering about the age line. I consider giving it a shot, and I picture myself doing something visually impressive but completely illusory. I could sit on the floor just outside of the age line in a pseudo-yoga pose – considering I don't know anything about yoga it wouldn't be a real pose – and put on a similarly awesome light and smoke show like I did for my fake ritual. I wonder if I could make myself look like I do in reality to freak everybody out when I grow a couple inches.

But of course, there's no guarantee I'd actually make it over the age line, since the wizarding world itself thinks I'm fifteen at most. And actually, I realize it would be an extremely bad idea, even if I just put on the show and don't try to cross, because then Hermione might blame me for entering Harry's name. Scratch that, she _would_ suspect me, and there would be no coming back from it.

Suddenly I'm very glad I thought that one through.

I finish up early and make my way down to Hagrid's to show him what I've got so far, and maybe get some tips for the picture frames.

"Well hello there, Bud," the half-giant says.

"Hey, Ha—" my greeting is choked off when I see him. He's wearing an enormous brown suit with a checkered orange-and-yellow tie, along with a broad smile. I cough to hopefully cover up any embarrassing outward reactions. "Hey, Hagrid, you're dressed up nice," I say.

"Well thank you, Bud," he says with a blush. "Come on in, have a seat while we have a chat; I'm not quite finished up yet. How's your carving coming along?"

"It's going pretty well I think, have a look." I hold out the Quidditch hoop, the bookmark, and the beginnings of the lion medallion. I've got a bit of detail lightly scratched in, but no more.

Hagrid whistles. "Simple work, but clean and even," he says, referring to the bookmark and hoop. Then lightly rubs the medallion. "Looks like you're going to get fancy with that one, though."

"I hope so. These are meant to be little Christmas gifts, but the main gifts are these picture frames," I say, pulling out the one I brought with me. "Well, along with the pictures themselves. I've got this one pretty much how I want it, but I was hoping you'd have some tips for details on the rest. Maybe you've got examples around here?"

"Not a whole lot too fancy here, but have a look on the table and the wall over there. I'm going to try and do something about my hair."

His best frame, in my opinion, appears to be an old wizarding photo of himself shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore. There is a roughly etched relief of Hogwarts along the top of the frame, the sides are carved to look like vines, which drape down over the bottom of the frame. The imperfections in the view of Hogwarts, which looks like the first glimpse students get when they cross the Lake, somehow adds character in a way that I could never replicate.

This is way beyond my skill. "This one with you and the headmaster is incredible, Hagrid!"

"Aye, my finest work, that is. Took me months!" he calls from the other room.

"That would take me years, I think."

"Oh you'll pass me up soon enough, Bud. Your small fingers are much better suited for those tiny things."

I spend some time studying the others, and I pick out a couple details and patterns that I decide to try on Neville's and Harry's frames. The draping vines would be perfect for Neville. Then I remember the other reason I'm here. "Hey Hagrid, have you spoken to Harry, Hermione, and Ron lately?"

He pops his head out in the doorway, and it looks like he's in the process of greasing down his massive tangle of hair. "In class of course, but it's been a while since they came and saw me. Why? You're all good folk, Bud, aren't you friends with them?"

"That's just it, I was getting there, but...well, some things happened and I haven't spoken more than a scant few words with them in a while."

Hagrid came out then, still working on his hair, and sat down on his enormous, faded recliner. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

I sigh. "It's complicated. I know those three have their history, having been together for the first three years here. I get the impression they've been through quite a lot."

"That they have," Hagrid says with a nod.

"I've only been here since the beginning of the year, so they don't really trust me..."

"Well that can't be it, that don't sound like them at all!"

"It's not...not usually, anyway. I think I sort of surprised and scared them a little bit with some of the things that I shared, but the reason I had that knowledge is part of my past. And for several reasons I really can't share my past with anybody. Not even with my best friend, or even with Professor Dumbledore. I just can't!"

Hagrid leans back and frowns deeply. Idly I note that he's getting grease on the arms of his recliner. "Well your secrets are yours to tell, but they have more reason than most to be wary." He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Bud, I'm not much good with stuff like this."

Just then a knock on the door makes Fang jump up and bark excitedly. Suddenly it hits me: Hagrid wearing the suit and slicked down hair, that was in the book!

Before I can do anything Hagrid takes two massive strides to the door and opens it. I dash over to the table where I had left my partially finished frames and other gifts and hurriedly stuff them back into my robe pockets. I spin around to find the trio inside near one of the normal-sized chairs, Hermione looking at me very suspiciously.

"Hey guys," I say.

"Alright, William?" Harry says. He and Ron are still friendly toward me, but since I usually leave them alone to follow Hermione's wishes he seems uncertain about addressing me familiarly.

"Whatcha got there?" Ron asks, oblivious to the tension.

"Yes, William, what are you hiding?" Hermione says, eyes narrowed. Not a good start to getting back on her good side.

"Now, Ron, Hermione," Hagrid begins.

"No, it's okay Hagrid..." I dig around, then pull out the lion medallion, then pull it out and show them. "Just something I've been working on."

"What is this?" she asks, turning it over and tracing the _tiwaz_ rune with her finger.

"Well it's not finished yet, but I'm hoping it will be a Christmas present for Neville."

Her eyes widen, and I feel myself blush in embarrassment.

"Do you...think he'll like it? If it comes out okay, I mean."

Ron leans over Hermione's shoulder for a brief glance. "Looks pretty good to me, mate."

Hermione's look of suspicion morphs into something else that I can't identify. "It's brilliant, actually."

"Looked like you had more than that," Ron says after a moment, trying to peek into my pockets.

"Well, you guys aren't allowed to see those yet," I say, still fighting my blush and holding my hands over my pockets.

"Why not?" Ron asks thickly. "If the others are as good as that one..."

"Well I've got yours and one of Hermione's in here, too, Ron."

"Oh," Ron says, turning red. "Well thanks, mate! That thing was pretty brilliant now that I think about it."

"Actually that was only for Neville," I say with a small smile. "You'll just have to wait and see yours."

I chuckle when he begins to look excited.

"You didn't have to do anything..." Hermione says, looking down at the floor.

"No, I didn't. But I wanted to."

Hagrid looks between all of us. "Oh codswallop you four, what are you even on about? You know Bud here came down here asking me how to make friends with you three again."

I look down as I feel my face heat even further in embarrassment. "Hagrid..."

"No, it needs to be said! Now I don't know your past, but it doesn't right matter to me. If you learn nothing else from Albus Dumbledore, well, he believes in second chances. Gave me one when no one else would, he did. Nobody else believed me at all, and he brought me on here." Hagrid takes a moment to wipe the tears from his cheeks, and I note the others looking just as embarrassed as I am. Then Hagrid points at me. "And he's the only student that comes down to visit me regularly anymore, and not just when he's come to help get me ready for class. So if anyone deserves a second chance, it's this little guy right here." You have to hand it to the man, he knows how to lay on the guilt trip. He also knows how to accidentally attempt to drive people into the floor like a railroad spike. I hope my shoulder is okay.

We stand in silence a moment, then suddenly the wind is knocked out of me by a bushy-haired human missile to the gut. "I'm sorry, William! I don't know what I—I mean, I didn't think—I'm sorry! Of course Hagrid's right, can you ever forgive me?"

I manage to wheeze some air into my lungs. "Hermione, I told you I wouldn't hold it against you."

"No William, you never gave us any good reason to mistrust you. I was just...I was just being stupid."

I smile softly. "I don't think you could be stupid if you tried."

"Oh I dunno," Ron says, "I never understood why she ditched you in the first place."

I feel Hermione stiffen, watch as Harry elbows Ron, and I chuckle at the familiar byplay. "It doesn't matter, it's in the past."

"Good," Hagrid booms, clapping his hands. "That's that. Now let me cook up some lunch and we can all enjoy this fine Saturday."

"So what're you getting Harry?" Ron asks with a grin when Hagrid bustles about the kitchen. "You didn't say anything about him."

"Ron..." Harry says in embarrassment.

"I haven't started on his or Luna's stuff yet," I grin back.

"You-you don't have to—" Harry stammers.

I wave his objection away. "We already covered this. I mean it won't be much, obviously..." I shrug.

"If they're half as thoughtful as Neville's, you're underestimating yourself, William." Hermione says.

"What about Neville's?" Ron asks. I chuckle at his complete lack of tact.

"The rune on it is _tiwaz_, which stands for courage, and there will be a lion head carved in the other side," Hermione says before I can answer. Then she looks at me with the same expression from before. "It's William's way of telling Neville that he belongs in Gryffindor House. You know how unsure of himself Neville is."

Harry and Ron look at me with surprise. "That about covers it," I say. "I don't know if he'll like it that much, though, since I don't think it will actually do anything."

"He will," Hermione says confidently.

I smile at her gratefully. "I've missed you, you know." The words slip out, and my face flushes. "You guys, I mean."

"I missed you," Hermione says. "We did, I mean," she adds smiling widely.

"Oh great, you guys aren't going to start snogging in front of us again, are you?" Harry says with a grin.

"Oh hush, Harry!"

My smile grows, then fades as I remember what's coming.

* * *

"Harry Potter," Professor Dumbledore calls, half questioningly.

The Hall falls completely silent, and seeing the shock and fear plain on his face I feel incredibly sorry for him. He makes no move go get up.

"I didn't put my name in," he says blankly at Ron and Hermione. "You know I didn't."

Ron and Hermione say nothing, which irks me. "I know you didn't, Harry. This must be some mistake."

"Harry Potter!" the headmaster calls again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione says, giving him a little nudge.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" I whisper angrily when he's out of earshot. "You _know_ he didn't do it!"

"Yeah, and how do you know?" Ron shoots back just as angrily.

"At least one of you were with him all the time for the last day, weren't you?"

"But at night..." Hermione says, biting her lip.

"He sleeps in the same room as both Ron and me," I say.

"He has his cloak, he could have slipped out at any time," Ron says, fuming. "That would be just like him." Ron storms out of the Hall.

I glare at Hermione, and she flinches away. "I-I know he didn't..."

"Then why didn't you say anything? He thinks you both just abandoned him!"

Her face drains of blood. "I-I don't know, I was just surprised is all. That look on his face..." Her eyes start to fill with tears. "Oh William, he's going to hate me, isn't he? What are we going to do?"

I can't help but chuckle grimly. "No, Hermione, he isn't going to hate you. He needs friends, Hermione, people that stick by him no matter what. He's going to get a lot of grief from the rest of the school. There will be a few Gryffindors that congratulate him, but nobody besides us and maybe a couple professors that actually _believe_ him."

Hermione's face is still blotchy, but she looks galvanized.

"And as for what we're going to do, well, I'm going to help him survive."

* * *

"There he is!" a voice near the entrance calls.

"You should've told us you entered!" one of the Twins bellows loudly.

"How'd you do it without getting a beard?" the other asks. "Brilliant!"

"I didn't!" Harry says loudly, "I don't know how—"

I see him get swooped up into a hug by Angelina, "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor—"

Then Katie Bell snatches him away into her own hug. "You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!"

"We've got food, Harry, come and have some—"

"But I'm not—"

I've had enough. I raise my hand in the air, palm upward, and push a small trickle upward.

BOOM! The sound of a shotgun blast reverberates around the common room, rattling my teeth.

So much for a small trickle...apparently I shouldn't do that when I'm angry. I just hope everyone else's ears are ringing as badly as mine.

"In case you didn't hear him," I say, glaring at his group of well-wishers. "He didn't put his name in the Goblet, and therefore he isn't in the mood to celebrate. Or perhaps you forgot that people _die in these things_?"

Harry pushes his way out of the crowd and gives me a grateful nod. I put what I hope is a comforting hand on his shoulder and follow him up to the room, leaving a gathering of whispers in my wake.

"Sorry 'bout that, Harry," I say when we're climbing the stairs.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Thank you. You think it worked?"

I press my lips together. "Probably not. They'll forget about that little episode in a few minutes. Hermione believes you, though. She would have been there, too, but I'm pretty sure she's in her room having a bit of a cry. I sent her up before you got here, because I didn't think she was going to be able to hold it together."

He lets out a relaxed breath when I hold open the door, then I see him glance over to Ron's bed, where the redhead is lying still fully dressed, watching us enter. "Ron..."

"Oh, hello," Ron says in a distant, emotionless voice.

Oh boy, here we go.

* * *

Harry woke up late the next morning in a bit of a funk. I had been awake when Ron took off, but I stuck around, first to read, then to work on my wood carving. I didn't look at the redhead when he walked by, but I could almost feel the glare.

"Finally awake, are we?" I ask Harry with a slight smile.

He nods glumly, quickly throwing on his robes.

"Well, let's go find Hermione, then," I say, hopping off the bed.

She's not in the common room, but it's getting late in the morning, so I suggest we see if it's not too late to get some breakfast. The Creevey brothers are there looking like they want to speak to Harry, but my presence seems to make them cower. Damn, I hope I didn't ruin my chances of getting those photos with my shotgun blast last night. Just as we make it outside the portrait, Hermione clears the last stairwell carrying a pair of napkins full of toast.

"Hello," she says, holding up the food. "I brought you guys these. Want to go for a walk?"

"Good idea," Harry says gratefully.

"Do you guys want me to head down to breakfast, give you a chance to talk?"

"No," Harry says immediately.

Hermione bites her lip, but says nothing.

We head outside toward the lake, and Harry recaps everything that happened after he left the Gryffindor table. It includes all the details of the meeting with the other Champions, headmasters, professors, and Ministry folk that I wasn't privy to this time around. I had forgotten that Moody practically tells us how he got Harry's name in the Goblet. One particular item that I make sure I have right is the date of the First Task: November 24th. Then Harry chuckles when he recounts what I had done to shut everyone up.

"That was you?" Hermione asks, eyes wide. "I was wondering about that. First I thought it was an earthquake, then I thought the twins set off some fireworks or something."

"Ah, it was a bit louder than I had intended."

"I bet. Well of course I knew you hadn't entered yourself," she says, with a nervous glance towards me. "The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who _did_ put it in? Because Moody's right, Harry...I don't think any student could have done it...they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's—"

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupts suddenly.

She hesitates. "Erm...yes...he was at breakfast," she says.

"Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Yes, he does," I say, cutting her off. "I saw him leave this morning, grumbling and glaring."

"It's not like that," Hermione says, biting her lip. "Oh Harry, isn't it obvious? He's jealous!"

"_Jealous_?" Harry asks, bright green eyes blazing.

"Look, it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault, and I know you don't ask for it, but, well, you know he's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous – he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is one time too many..."

"Great. Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it... People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go..."

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione says shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."

"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up! Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken, or—-"

"That's not funny. That's not funny at all."

I've tried to keep my mouth shut, but I can't anymore. "Just leave it be, Harry. Maybe he'll grow up and get over it. There are more important things to think about."

"William!" Hermione hisses.

"It's true, Hermione! He wasn't trying to be funny, he was being serious! Maybe Ron will get a hold of his jealousy on his own, but I wouldn't count on it. All he sees is the prestige of the Tournament, he doesn't realize the danger. _None of us do_." Except me. "The First Task will be a clear reminder of that, I bet."

"That makes me feel loads better," Harry says sarcastically.

"Well, you don't expect me to sugarcoat it for you, right?" I say with a grin. "I'm just kidding Harry, the First Task will be a breeze! All you'll have to do is cast a pretty Shield Charm and then we'll all sing songs and eat rainbows and live happily ever after!"

Hermione's snort diminishes the effect of her glare.

"You're a odd bloke, William," Harry says, chuckling. "An odd bloke."

"Hey, rainbows probably taste good, if you think about it."

"You can not eat rainbows, William." Hermione says, rolling her eyes.

"Nonsense! Haven't you ever heard of Skittles?"

Hermione scoffs and turns away, but I can see the edge of a smile. We walk in silence a little ways, but I can tell Hermione wants to say something. Harry must have sensed it too.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"Erm...well...I was thinking...you should write to...your g—your friend."

Ah, I get the hint. "Well, I'll let you two talk. I'm going to go, uh, work on my stuff. What do you guys think about meeting in the Room after lunch to try and figure out what spells we should have Harry work on? We've got just over three weeks to get him ready for the d—the Tournament." Wow, way to almost blow your own cover there, genius.

The two of them share a look silently for a moment. "See you there, William." Hermione says.

* * *

"So what do you know about Sirius Black?" Hermione asks as soon as we hit our separate cushions in the seating area of the Room of Requirement.

Now that's a question I was not expecting. I might know more than either of these two at this point, though I'm not sure how much of that 'knowledge' would be attributed to fanfiction.

"I see you know something," Hermione prods.

I look at her askance, and nod slightly. "I know he was accused of betraying Harry's parents to Voldemort and killing Peter Pettigrew along with twelve Muggles when he was caught. He gave up without a fight and then spent a dozen or so years in Azkaban without a trial, until he escaped last year. He was caught again while he was here but somehow escaped again."

Hermione raises an eyebrow. "Interesting verbiage, William. Now that I think about it, I've just realized one of the things that has bothered me about you. You don't seem to be surprised or frightened by anything. And I can tell you know more."

Harry's jaw drops, and my face turns red. Damn it, I might be a good liar at first, but I just made the answer to that obvious. Now what?

"William."

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Please do not lie to me right now. Do you know more?"

I shift uncomfortably. "Yes."

"And?"

My eyes flicker to Harry, and he's leaning forward expectantly. Hermione looks the same way, and I'm somewhat relieved to find a lack of anger. I sigh. "He didn't really betray Harry's parents or kill Peter Pettigrew. Sirius was going to be the Potters' Secret Keeper, but he convinced them at the last minute to use Peter instead. It was Peter who betrayed them, and Sirius attacked Peter when he found out. The latter lost a finger in the attack, turned into his animagus form - a rat - and escaped to make his way to the Weasleys, where he posed as their pet Scabbers..." I almost said more, but stopped myself.

Harry nods, but Hermione looks even more intent. "Keep going."

"Hermione, he couldn't possibly—"

"No, Harry, he does. William, I've got you figured out now. I can see you know more. Please, keep going."

I cast about, searching my brain for more safe information. "Sirius saw a picture of the Weasleys in the Prophet and escaped Azkaban in his animagus form - a dog - and came to Hogwarts to save Harry from Pettigrew, because Sirius is Harry's godfather..."

"You aren't done yet."

That's already more than I should know by any means, but at this point I just want to spill everything. "Last year's DADA Professor Remus Lupin was the fourth Marauder, along with Peter, Sirius, and Harry's father. Sirius and Lupin captured Scabbers by kidnapping Ron. You and Harry followed him under the Whomping Willow, where you found out the truth. Snape came in and you knocked him unconscious with multiple, simultaneous disarming spells. Harry stopped Sirius from killing Pettigrew, but on the way back to the castle Lupin turned into a werewolf and Peter escaped in the confusion. Sirius turned into his dog form to attack Lupin to allow you both to escape. Hermione drew Lupin away, and Harry went to Sirius, where he was attacked by a swarm of dementors. A stag Patronus drove them away, and then you all made it up to the hospital wing, while Sirius went into custody. You used your time turner to go back, save Buckbeak from execution and then you both went down where Harry cast his stag Patronus to save his past self. Then you took Buckbeak to Sirius to allow them both to escape." With that I blow out an exhausted breath and collapse against the back cushion.

Now they are both gaping.

I stay silent, glancing back and forth between them.

"How could you possibly know that?" Hermione asks quietly "There are maybe three people in the world that know all of that. How could you?"

I sigh. "Sorry, I can't answer that. We're getting away from talking about Sirius, anyway."

"What else do you know about him?" Harry asks. He appears to be interested and not particular angry. That's a good sign.

I tilt my head upwards to consider the question. "I made reference to the Marauders earlier, so of course I know he went to Hogwarts in the same year as your parents, along with Lupin and Pettigrew. Lupin was already a werewolf, so they all became animagi so he wouldn't be left out. Snape was the same year, too. They hated each other with a passion, which is part of the reason Snape hates you. I know a bit about your godfather's family, too. His brother was Regulus, who joined the Death Eaters but disappeared sometime around the last war. His cousins are Bellatrix Lestrange - the insane Death Eater, Andromeda Tonks - who was cast out of the family for not marrying a pureblood, and Narcissa Malfoy - Draco's mother. Oh, and Sirius is the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, which means he's loaded, as you may have guessed when he bought you the Firebolt." I smile at that, then pause, searching my memory banks. I can't really say anything about the house, or their future, so I nod. "I know a few more names in the family, like Arcturus and Walburga, but I can't remember much about them. Oh! I almost forgot Phineas Nigellus Black, who was headmaster at Hogwarts a long time ago."

"That's incredible, William. How do you know—" Harry starts, but stops with a muttered curse. "Sorry, off limits, I know. Can you—do you know anything else?"

I press my lips together. "Not for sure. Don't hold me to it, but I think you and Sirius might be like second cousins or something." I'm not sure about that, but it was in a couple pieces of fanfiction, and those guys do their research. And it seemed like something Harry might appreciate knowing, a fact that is confirmed when Harry's face lights up.

Hermione's eyes are unfocused and her lips are pursed, absorbing and processing the information. It felt good to share all of that, but I'm getting worried about it now. How much will she figure out?

"You spoke to me about secrets. You know pretty much all of ours, don't you?" She asks, eyes boring into me. If I didn't know any better I might suppose she knows Legilimency.

I look away, just in case. "I don't know about all, but many of them, yes."

"Do tell."

I remain silent for a moment. "I know about your time at Hogwarts: Harry making Seeker as a First Year, the troll, the Philosopher's Stone, Norbert, Fluffy and the other Professors' traps, Voldemort's possession of Quirrell and his defeat when Harry touched him, Ginny's possession during your Second Year by the diary, Moaning Myrtle and the Polyjuice Potion, Harry speaking Parseltongue and being ostracized by pretty much the entire school – that sounds familiar, eh? Don't forget the basilisk, Lockhart's backfired memory charm with Ron's broken wand, freeing Dobby, and of course I already discussed Third Year."

Harry makes some hissing sounds while looking at the floor.

"Sorry, I can't speak Parseltongue, though." I say with a wry grin.

Hermione lets out a whistling breath. "Well, William, I can't come up with anything to explain you. None of the Death Eaters know all of that. I'm pretty sure Sirius doesn't even know that much. Dumbledore might, so the best I can come up with is that he informed you and placed you here to help us. Am I correct?"

I consider answering in the affirmative, but she notices my hesitation and slaps the armrest. "The truth, William!"

I let out a breath. "No, he didn't. He doesn't know about me, and he can't. I told you he's a Legilimens, and..." I shake my head. "It would be bad if he knew, I'll just leave it at that."

Hermione rubs her temples. "What could you know that makes it so bad for him to find out?" She is asking herself.

"Please do not try to figure that out," I say quietly. "Ask me about someone else. How about Snape? Snape used to be a Death Eater, if you didn't know that already." The paled faces answer that question for me. "I see you didn't. It's true, he has the Dark Mark on his arm. He _is_ on Dumbledore's side, though, however little he may seem like it."

"How could you possibly know for sure that he is on Dumbledore's side?"

"He knew your mother before Hogwarts, Harry. He...loved her...he still does. Snape begged Voldemort to spare her life, but he didn't. That's why I know he's loyal to Dumbledore. That's why he seems to hate you, he looks at you and he sees your mother's eyes in the face of the man who won her heart. At the same time, he looks at you, and sees his failure to protect Lily."

Once again the other two are stunned into silence. I allow them time to assimilate this information.

After minutes, the gears in Hermione's mind start turning again, and I know she's about to ask another question. Surprisingly, Harry goes first. "What can you tell me about my parents?" he asks quietly.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I don't know much more than what I've already said. I already mentioned that you might be second cousins or so because I think your paternal grandmother or great-grandmother may have been a Black, and I know the Potter line goes back a long way. I smile. In fact, I know you can trace it all the way to...Gryffindor himself." I almost said one of the Peverell brothers, but it occurs to me just in time that they don't know about the Deathly Hallows yet. "Your mother was Muggle born, and a brilliant witch just like Hermione. Your father enjoyed flying as much as you do, but I think he played Chaser. Your parents were Head Boy and Head Girl, even though Lupin was the Prefect. They lived in Godric's Hollow when Voldemort attacked."

I stopped there when a thought struck me, and I felt the blood draining from my face.

"What is it?" Hermione asks.

"Something I just realized..." My mind races, trying to figure out what, if anything, I should tell them.

"Come on, then, out with it!"

I swallow with some difficulty, then lick my lips as they seem to have completely dried out. "If I tell you this, Dumbledore would not be pleased with me if he finds out. And you might be quite unhappy with Dumbledore, as well."

Their eyes widen identically. "Do it," Harry says.

"Harry, it has to do with why Voldemort attacked your parents..."

* * *

A/N:

It's entirely possible that the wizarding world already has padded bras or some other solution, but 'I' was a little distracted to consider that.

I've seen too much butchering of Hagrid's accent to try it myself.

After a bit of research it actually looks like Harry might be second cousins, that is, his _possible_ grandfather, Charlus Potter, married Dorea Black, who was the sister of Sirius' grandfather, Pollux Black. So they share great-grandparents: Cygnus Black and Violetta Bulstrode. It looks like Harry's ancestry beyond his parents is never discussed in canon, though, so there may be another generation between Charlus and James.

I wasn't intending on spilling so much already, but that damnable Hermione is too perceptive. I haven't said anything about the future yet. I'm hopefully going to keep that a secret until my super awesome infallible plan is executed. Mwahahaha!

R & R, C & C


	8. Chapter 8: Ramping up Harry's Training

Disclaimer: I made a Prophecy that I would inherit Harry Potter, but that time has come and gone and it still belongs to JK Rowling.

Note: a reviewer pointed out that Harry is not, in fact, related to Godric Gryffindor. Stupid William, messing up canon and fanon. Somebody should really set him straight.

*looks around, pretending it's not my fault*

Well, Harry's ancestry is not important to the story so I'm probably not going to fix it unless I get over fifty reviews expressing their undying hatred for messing that up. Sorry 'bout that!

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Eight: Ramping up Harry's Training**

"Why didn't anybody tell me?" Harry asks quietly.

It occurs to me that he's not as pissed about the whole prophecy thing as I remember, but then I realize that Sirius hasn't just been murdered and Voldemort didn't just mind-rape him. "I don't know, man, it's a pretty heavy burden to lay on somebody, though arguably you've earned the right to hear it."

"But William, are you sure you can't remember the exact wording? I may have dropped Divination but I know the wording can be critical." Hermione says.

I look up at the ceiling, trying my best to remember. "_The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches_. I'm almost positive that's the first line verbatim, or close enough to it as makes no difference. After that I can't quite remember the wording or the order. _Born as the seventh month dies to those who have thrice defied him_. And then there's a piece about _having a power the Dark Lord knows not_, and then it says something about _one must die at the hand of the other because neither can live while the other survives_. I think the first line repeats at the end, but that's—no, wait! Earlier on it also says _the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal_." I tap my forehead at that.

Hermione looks like she is going to say something, but when I remember that last piece, she pales.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Trelawney made that prophecy shortly before Harry was born. If I'm not mistaken, Neville was also born around the same time, but with that line it seems that Voldemort himself decided between them."

"Wait, _Trelawney_ made it?" Harry asks dubiously.

"Yeah, and I know what you're thinking," I say, shaking my head. "Whatever kind of Seer she is, she didn't remember anything about making it. Only Dumbledore and maybe McGonagall know the whole thing. And me, I guess, even though I can't remember the wording. Snape heard the first two lines – just the first two lines, up to _born as the seventh month dies_. I don't know if Dumbledore purposely let him hear that or not, but either way, Snape told Voldemort, and that's how Voldemort knew to attack the Potters and the Longbottoms."

"That bastard!" Harry yells, slamming a fist into the armrest.

"Wait, the Longbottoms? But he...his parents are dead too?" Hermione asks, eyes beginning to water.

I frown. "Sorry, that's his story to tell, if he wants. You probably know he was raised by his grandmother, though."

Harry's anger faded. "I know he talked about how strict his Gran was, but I never really thought about it..."

The two remain quiet for a few moments, no doubt thinking of the shy, clumsy boy and what he's had to go through. "But anyway," I say, getting back to the subject at hand, "this prophecy is actually recorded in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry, in case you don't believe me. I assure you it's the real thing."

"We should get our hands on it," Harry says.

That brings me up short. "Actually, you could just tell Dumbledore you know about it." I laugh after I realize how simple it seems. "I'm surprised I didn't think of that before. Since you already know, he doesn't have much of a reason to keep it from you."

"How would he tell him that he found out, though" Hermione asks.

"Easy, just tell him you heard it in your—" I fade out and I'm sure I made a face. Damn it, I really must practice withholding information.

"What, William? Tell the headmaster he heard it where?" Hermione asks. "Oh come on, _more secrets_, William?" She stamps her foot. Uh oh, she's getting angry at me again.

Harry squints, looking suspicious.

I look down. "Your dreams, Harry."

"That's ridiculous, William, why would he see them in his—" Hermione trails off when she sees a pale and shocked expression on her best friend's face. She looks back and forth between me and Harry.

"You didn't tell her?" I ask softly.

"Tell me what? Tell me what, Harry?"

"I just—what's to tell? It was just a dream and my scar hurt." Harry says shakily.

I'm almost positive that I'm keeping my face neutral, but Hermione apparently sees through it. "Alright, William, let's hear it." She gets annoyed when I hesitate. "Come on, why does this have to be like pulling teeth with you?"

A twitch of laughter escapes before I can stop it.

"What's so funny?" she demands.

"Nothing, you just made a dentist joke is all."

She glares at me. "You know my parents are dentists, don't you?"

Why can't I keep my mouth shut? "Sorry, but if its any consolation that's all I know." I know they have different names in a bunch of different fanfiction, though Dan and Emma are popular. Either way, it doesn't look like that is any consolation at all. "Um, anyway," I say shakily, "Harry's dream earlier this summer wasn't just a dream." I pause, waiting for Hermione to chastise me for changing the subject. When she doesn't, I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to put this. "It was...a vision. Not of the future, mind you, but of the present. Harry's scar...it's a connection to Voldemort. An accidental one, so Voldemort doesn't know about it yet, but it allows Harry to experience what he's feeling."

Hermione looks like she wants to vomit. "Oh no, Harry, what are we going to do?"

Harry sits there rubbing his temples, offering nothing.

After some silence I figure I should throw them another bone. "When I was showing you Occlumency all that time ago...I think you can effectively shut off the connection that way. Hopefully no more visions from him...and more importantly, nothing going the other direction."

Harry's head snaps up. "But I was the snake. In the dream, I was the snake. If the connection is with Voldemort, how could I be the snake?"

"The snake is connected to him just like you are," I say ambiguously, hoping this doesn't result in a discussion about Horcruxes.

Of course, hope is a four letter word.

Hermione turns her glare on me. "Explain."

I slump back into my chair, exhausted from being pumped for information and the thought of spilling more. The good news is Harry and Hermione seem to have accepted the fact that I somehow have more knowledge of certain past events than any other single person in the world.

The bad news is that Hermione looks at me as if she wants to dissect me.

After covering the horror that is the darkest magic ever described in canon, I spill everything I know about them. The diary from Second Year, the snake from the dream, the Gaunt family ring, the cup in the Lestrange Gringotts Vault, the locket that Regulus stole, the diadem in the hiding place version of this very room...and the snake.

My eyes flicker to Harry, and Hermione's eyes widen as she immediately puts it together. "No...no...it can't be..." She breaks down into tears and throws herself at Harry. Harry figures it out a second later, and just stares into nothingness.

Hermione's desperate sobs tear my heart in half, and I have to look away. "I'm sorry, Harry," is all I can say for several moments. Once I regain control, I try to ignore Hermione's still heart-rending sobbing. "Listen, Harry," I say firmly. "We're going to figure this out. That girl there," I say, pointing at Hermione, "Lupin called her the smartest witch of her age. He's wrong. She's _the smartest damn person on the planet_ – including Dumbledore – and we're all going to figure it out. You aren't dead yet, and you _aren't_ going to have to die." I feel a bit odd making that promise, considering what is supposed to happen, but it feels right.

Maybe if Hermione has more time to think about it, she'll come up with something that Dumbledore never did. She looks a little lost right now, though, so I don't think she'll do her brain-churning thing yet. I'll need to distract her for now, and hopefully put some distance between her and the initial shock.

"Hey, speaking of Occlumency, did you guys ever ask Dumbledore about it?"

Harry's head jerks up and Hermione cringes. "No, we...er...I kind of forgot when you...I mean..."

"When you kicked me to the curb?" I ask with a smirk.

"I already feel bad enough—"

"I'm kidding, Hermione. Well, since you found out a little more about me, I suppose I can share what I _actually_ know about it instead of the breadcrumbs I was trying to leave you before."

Hermione's mouth drops open, and I'm pleased to see her hopeless expression turn to anger. "You...you prat!"

I give her a small smile. "Sorry, I didn't expect to give away so many of my secrets this soon. Or rather, I didn't expect you to squeeze them out of me so soon." She doesn't find this amusing, so I clear my throat and move on. "Right, well, Occlumency is indeed the counter to Legilimency. Snape and Dumbledore are both highly skilled at it. I've also heard that Professor Flitwick has some skill at it since he was once a professional duelist, but I'm not sure about that one."

"But how does it work?" She asks, curiosity overcoming her anger at me.

"Well, I only know a little bit about that for sure," I say. That's completely true, since some fics have described what they called real Occlumency exercises in depth. Unless, of course, Snape's method of saying 'clear your mind' and then blasting Harry with Legilimency actually is the best way to learn. "I know it involves clearing your mind of all emotions, of all thoughts. In fact, that might be why I couldn't get the Room to produce any relevant books: there might not be any. There might not be very much to it except for practice and discipline."

Hermione looks pensive. "I suppose we could start practicing, but that sounds incredibly difficult to maintain."

"There are a few other ideas I have about it, if you'd like to try some simpler or alternative methods. Of course, I don't know how effective they'll be without someone here to test them."

"Sure, let's hear them."

"Okay, in Harry's case, there is one person in particular he wants to keep out. So he should focus on one particular memory or group of memories that would make that person exceedingly uncomfortable. Force him to watch memories of reuniting with Sirius, of hugging Hermione...memories of happiness and love." If I recall correctly, Harry was actually somewhat successful when he tried that.

Harry blushes when I mention hugging Hermione, but looks thoughtful. "That makes sense..."

"...but it won't keep Dumbledore out," Hermione finishes.

"No, it won't, but I think maybe it will help stop him from getting to what he actually wants. Another I had is focusing on an involved task in your head. For example, play a mental game of chess, or do the commentary on an imaginary game of Quidditch. Something that engages your brain entirely so that no other images or stray thoughts pop in." I learned that one from Atton Rand, only he counted ticks in the Ebon Hawk's engine sequencer or played Pazaak in his head. Thank you, video games.

"That seems like the same kind of thing," Hermione says with a frown. "It seems like it would be really difficult to maintain unless you can ignore when somebody talks to you."

"Maybe that's the next step after clearing your mind: being able to brush off what anybody says; being able to maintain that void no matter what." I cock my head back at my words as a thought strikes me.

Hermione sees it, too. "What did you just think of?"

"Another thing to try. It's similar, but actually, I think this might be better than either of those. Do you guys want to try it now?"

"Yes," Harry says immediately, sitting up. A glance at Hermione is returned with a nod.

"Okay, close your eyes, and picture utter blackness. A void. Nothingness..." I pause and follow my own instructions. "Now picture a flame right in the center; only a flame – there are no shadows, no surroundings – only a flame in the darkness. Now, feed your emotions into it. All of your fear, all of your anger, all of your sadness...feed it to the flame. The fire grows with each emotion you put into it. Push them all in, all your embarrassment, your happiness, your envy, your love. The flame diminishes as each emotion is consumed. Keep pushing them in, your nervousness, your eagerness, and let the fire burn them away and shrink back into nothingness."

After several minutes of silence, I open my eyes to find Hermione peering back at me with a blank expression, and Harry still with his eyes closed. I give Hermione a wink, which is apparently the wrong thing to do. I try to lift my finger to my lips, but it's not quick enough to stop her from making a sound that catches Harry's attention.

"What was that?" Harry asks in a blank voice.

"That was the Flame and the Void," I answer, knowing that wasn't what he was asking. Idly I try to remember if that exercise is courtesy of Tam Al'Thor or Lan Mandragoran.

Harry frowns. "Do you think it'll work?"

"I don't know," I say honestly, "but I don't think it'll hurt."

"It seems like Muggle meditation," Hermione says, then shoots me a dirty look for changing the subject. "At least that's something we can study."

* * *

Unfortunately sleep must not have come easy to them that night after speaking to Dumbledore, because the mood turned somber once again the next day. The one positive sign is that Hermione doesn't seem to be looking at me too suspiciously anymore. She's probably still going to try and figure out my story, but it appears she's too upset with Harry's situation to push it right now.

"Maybe Dumbledore was right," Hermione whispers, looking askance at Harry. The poor kid sat with a book in his lap, staring straight through it with baggy eyes.

"Harry," I say firmly. His head jerks up and his eyes come into focus. "Was Dumbledore right, keeping that information from you?" He furrows his brows, as if he's thinking about it. This annoys me. "If so, let's just call up an Obliviator. Is that what you want?"

I look directly at Harry when I say that and find the anger I was looking for. "William," Hermione hisses.

"No, Hermione. I told him because he needed to know." I hold up my hand to stave off the inevitable retort. "No, I know you both pushed for it, but short of Legilimency, you could not have made me tell. Now, we all know how uncertain prophecy is. It might be fulfilled tomorrow, or it could happen fifty years from now. We just...don't...know. So for the moment we need to get our heads out of our asses and prepare ourselves for it."

Harry is taken aback. "You...you guys don't have to—"

"Stop! Not another word, Harry. Tell me, what would you do if I threatened Hermione?"

"Y-you wouldn't—"

In response I stand up and walk across the room, spin around with an arm up. I focus on pulling out a trickle of magic, and a light green mist begins to coalesce in front of my palm. "You know this light, Harry," I say in a menacing voice.

Hermione goes deathly pale at my hard look, and like lightning Harry jumps in front of her with his wand out. The green light quickly expands into a shield just before a massive Stunner slams into it. My magic rushes to counter the force of it, and I drop to my hands and knees with the exertion.

"I yield! I yield!" I gasp out when the furious red light dissipates. Harry looks murderous. "Damn it Hermione, you were supposed to remind me never to get in a fight with him!" I try to chuckle while panting, and it comes out as wheezing.

"What are you playing at?" Harry demands.

"Harry, that wasn't the Killing Curse," Hermione says softly.

"_What_?" He spins around and shouts at Hermione, but then his look softens when he realizes what he's done. "What?" he asks more calmly.

"Just light...tried to make it...same color," I manage to explain between pants.

"That was not a good way to make your point, William," Hermione scolds.

"Which is?" Harry asks, anger finally beginning to fade.

"Harry, you...you jumped in front of me, when you thought he was going to..." Is there a little blush there?

"Hermione, I couldn't just let him...let you..." There's definitely a blush on Harry.

"Exactly, Harry, exactly!" I say, finally catching my breath. I force myself to my feet, leaning on the nearest bookshelf for support. "Now, what makes you think we're not ready to do the same for you?"

"But that—that can't be—that doesn't make sense!"

"Of course it does, Harry!" Hermione says hotly.

"Yes, it makes perfect sense," I say in agreement. I feel a grin spread its way across my face. "You love each other, after all."

"_What_?" Their eyes pop out of their heads, and I can't help but laugh.

"Platonic love for now, I'm sure," I say, waving their concerns away. "Hermione has already realized that, even if she never put a word to it before." My smile fades when my eyes turn to Harry. "But you, Harry, you wouldn't recognize it. Tell me, would it embarrass you to speak truthfully about how much she means to you?"

The amount of redness in the room is staggering.

"You don't have to say it, you've shown it just minutes ago. You didn't have to get in front of her to fire that Stunner, did you? I know you would have retaliated in some way no matter who I was aiming for, but how many people would you have protected with your own body first? How many people would you have fired off that overpowered Stunner for? I'm thinking two, at the most. Maybe even just one at the moment."

I let that stew for a bit as I make my way back over to the sitting area, where I flop heavily onto the chair that Harry had vacated. He now sits in much the same position on the couch next to Hermione.

"At least, I hope that was overpowered," I say chuckling. "Otherwise I'm going to be utterly useless fighting alongside you."

"Why?" a whisper I barely hear says.

"What?"

"Why would you fight alongside me? Alongside us?" Harry asks. "You seem to know what we're up against here, so why would you do it? Hermione and I might...er...have some connection, but what about you?"

That's a good question. Why am I doing this? Why did I deliberately insert myself into the most dangerous position I possibly could have, short of entering my name in the Goblet itself? I could be just kicking back and enjoying the wizarding world, hitting on girls and generally just slacking off. I guess my arrival just happened so fast that I didn't stop and think about my options, and once I had decided I've just been running with it. It hardly even occurred to me that I had a choice.

But now, there it is. Why haven't I tried harder to return to my reality? What do I get out of changing things for them? Will it even work?

What if I die?

"Other people have reason to want to stop Voldemort, you know," I say in a flat voice after probably half a minute. It's a weak argument, I know, and Hermione will probably call me on it before long.

Since classes were going to start up again the next day I don't even make it to bed before she does call me on it. She corners me just before the staircase to the boys dormitory.

"That didn't make sense, you know," she says, crossing her arms at me.

"You'll have to be more specific than that," I lie.

She moves closer to avoid being overheard. "If you had your own reasons, then why were you so insistent on being 'on our side,' whatever that means? Why would you imply that you'd go so far to protect m—us?"

"I would try." At least, I'm pretty sure I would, if I don't freeze up in fear first. I don't have too many life or death situations under my belt. But I know how these things usually work: when you're sucked into an alternate dimension, just die and you get sent back. Heh, maybe if I keep telling myself that I won't be so afraid to do it. Of course it's the dying part that's easier said than done.

"That doesn't answer the question."

"I know."

"You are without a doubt the most maddening boy I've ever met!" She's whispering furiously now.

I chuckle and fold my arms. "That's high praise, considering your usual company."

She glares at me. "Prat!"

I stop chuckling and look at her seriously. "Whose to say I don't love—Harry, too? I mean he is a bit of a hunk."

Her expression is priceless.

"Hey come on, you know I have a thing for brunettes. Oh, you didn't? Well, that plus those bright green eyes...ow! Do you have to hit the same spot every time?"

She pokes the same spot again. "You deserve it!"

"That's true, but I can't help it. The way your eyes darken and your lips purse and twist to one—" Oops, did I just say that out loud? Her gobsmacked expression tells me I did. "Uh...I mean...what were we talking about again?"

In reply she turns and runs away, straight up the girls stairs.

"You have a gift, mate," Harry says, chuckling as he comes up from behind me. "I don't think anyone surprises or confuses her as much as you do."

"Make her angry, you mean," I say. "And I rather think it's a curse."

"Oh, Ron might give you a run for your money with that one. You wanna head up?"

"Sure." Once we enter the currently empty room, I watch him for his reaction. "She's a pretty girl, you know."

He jerks when he hears that. "What? Hermione?"

"Yeah. Let me guess, you've known her since before she grew into one, so you've never looked at her like that before."

He's silent for a moment. "What are you trying to say?"

I shrug. "Only that. I don't think anybody else our age realizes it yet. Even her. Especially her."

"How do you mean?"

"Well just think about it: the other girls plaster on the makeup and do their hair, but she doesn't do any of that. I don't think she particularly needs to, either, because guys like you and me can see right through that. But she doesn't try to draw attention to herself, that's why nobody else has figured it out."

Harry turns to me with an unreadable expression. "Do you like her?"

I grin. "Of course I like her. But..." My grin falters and I look away. "I'm not right for her."

"Look, I'm rubbish at this sort of thing, but I don't think that's true at all. Frankly I thought you'd be together by now. You two were inseparable less than a day after you met!"

I don't answer for several moments. "No, it's my...past...my secrets. I'm not...it can't work."

Harry shuffles uncomfortably. "If you say so."

I sigh. "I do. What about you? I've already established that you love her." My grin returns.

He grimaces. "That was quite awkward, springing that on me earlier."

"Sorry, I felt like you should know."

"I'm not sure that it helps. I mean, I'd never thought of her as more than a really good friend."

"Well, that's how it starts, eh? Personally I think you only considered Ron your best mate because he's a guy. Hermione's the one that's always looked out for you. Even when you were angry at her for getting your Firebolt taken away, she was really just scared for you."

The thoughtful silence returns. Several moments later, he replies. "I know, but I'm not right for her either."

"Why not?"

He looks at me pointedly. "Did you even hear any of the things you told me yesterday?"

I return the stern look. "I specifically recall the part where I said you're not going to die."

"But it's not certain, is it? How could I be with anybody knowing that's looming over me?"

"I'm sure there is a wise proverb out there that says something about how you shouldn't be afraid to live your life."

"Well, you must have butchered it because I'm not reassured at all."

"I'll have Hermione look it up for me and she can reassure you then," I say, getting a small smile out of him. "Seriously though, you'll go mad if you focus on your supposed destiny all the time. We just need to take one challenge at a time, starting with getting you ready for the First Task, whatever it is."

"I won't have much time for girls in that case," he says with a frown. "I tend to be rather busy."

"Nonsense! You already spend lots of time with Hermione."

"Yeah, but that's for school and other stuff. Which you know about."

"Hey, I'm pretty good with leaving you guys alone when you need some alone time."

Harry rolls his eyes. "It's Hermione, William."

"Yes, yes it is," I say with a grin.

"You're awful. I...don't know if I can think of her like that. It feels like...like I shouldn't."

"Well you don't have to do anything differently. In fact that's a surefire way to make it awkward for both of you. Just act normally. And if you happen to see an opening, just lean in a bit—"

"I can't do that!" He cuts me off quickly, then shakes his head. "I think you're a bad influence, William."

I grin. "You and Hermione think alike."

He snorts. "I really should stop talking to you now." He looks over at me with a solemn expression. "I never said thank you for what you've told me and done for me so far. So thank you, William. I really appreciate it."

"No problem, Harry. Just doing what I think any friend would do."

He shakes his head. "Not just any friend. You're a good friend, William."

"Good friends, then."

He nods firmly. "Good friends." He turns and busies himself preparing for bed. When we're both about ready to climb into bed, he clears his throat. "That's really creepy how you know about the Firebolt thing and all that other stuff, by the way."

"Sorry about that," I say, then I mutter, "I have to admit it's rather creepy for me, too."

"What?"

"Nothing. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, William."

* * *

If I didn't feel so bad the whole situation in the greenhouse might be hilarious. Of course the Hufflepuffs are glaring at Harry for ruining their House's chance for glory...even Sprout is short with him. In retaliation, some of the Gryffindors are glaring back. Ron appears to be glaring at everybody. But on top of that, Hermione keeps glaring at me over Harry's head.

"It's a good thing looks can't kill...these Bouncing Bulbs would have to pot themselves. Seriously, are we going for a Hogwarts record for most glares in a single class?"

Harry snorts and several more glares are turned my way. "You get used to it," he says with a shrug.

I remember Harry being particularly pitiful between his name coming out of the Goblet and the First Task, so it's encouraging to see him acting somewhat normally. With some glances at how Neville is doing it, I pick up some tips and we finish the class as comfortably as we can with so many glares directed our way.

Hermione, of course, tries to slip away.

"Hey, Hermione, wait up!" I call, running after her, and I notice Harry doing the same. We come up alongside her. "A little morning run might not be a bad idea for your training, Harry. Good thinking, Hermione!"

"Ugh, you're insufferable!" She says as we slow down.

I'm tempted to lead with another joke, but saying 'I think the word you're looking for is lovable' seems like a good way to catch another punch to the shoulder. And that's only if I'm lucky. I go for the serious route. "Look, Hermione, I'm sorry about last night."

"What's to be sorry about?" She asks in a way that insinuates that _everything_ is to be sorry about.

"I...didn't mean to make you mad. I don't like when you're mad at me."

The sincerity in my voice brings her up short. "Well you really must enjoy feeling lousy, then," she says tightly.

"Can we just...can we take a little walk and talk about it?"

She sighs. "Fine, what about it?"

Harry hesitates. "Do you guys want me to meet you later?"

"No, this is about what we spoke about last night, Harry."

Harry's eyes go wide.

Hermione clenches her jaw, but says nothing. We start toward the lake, perpendicular to the path back to the castle. We walk for a minute before I begin. "What did I say that made you so angry?"

She huffs. "You know what it was."

I nod. "I think I do, but I think it was a misunderstanding."

She says nothing, just clenches her jaw again.

I sigh and continue. "It was when I started talking about a particular facial expression of yours." I look up at the sky. "I think maybe you thought I was making fun of you. I wasn't. I wasn't joking." She looks away from me and doesn't reply, so after a few seconds I keep going. "You're pretty, Hermione, and I don't think you see it yet." She turns away from me even further, so I give Harry a questioning look.

"He's right, Hermione. I never thought about it until he said something, but it's true. I just can't believe I never noticed before."

A sniffle is her only reply. Harry sees it first and wraps his arms around her. Soon her shoulders are shaking and I have to look away as I realize she's sobbing silently again. After some minutes she finally emerges from hiding. "You think I'm p-pretty?"

"Yes," Harry says, rubbing her back.

"I don't just think, I know," I say.

She rubs at her eyes and glances at both of us. "I...I need to confess something...I shrunk my front teeth at the beginning of this year." Tears started welling up again. "I know looks don't mean much of anything and it won't stop the teasing, but I just...I just..."

That brings me up short. In canon she doesn't get her teeth shrunk until Malfoy hits her with a spell to make them grow. So...she changed them because of me? I try to think back to the train, but I can't remember well enough to know if there was any difference.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, as long as it makes you happy," Harry says softly, still rubbing.

After some more sniffling and rubbing, she turns away from Harry and wraps her arms around me. My concerns about why she did it melt away when she hugs me.

"You know, Harry and I figured out that this brings us to our next problem," I say. Harry's eyes go wide and I grin. I make sure to vanish it when Hermione loosens her grip and cranes her neck. "Now that we've established that you have beauty, brains, and..." I work my shoulder exaggeratedly. "...brawn, I'm regret to inform you that there isn't a single guy in this school worthy of your attentions."

"Prat," she says without conviction. She gives me another firm squeeze and lets go. "I'll be the judge of that."

We walk hand-in-hand toward the lake in a companionable silence. Well, Harry and Hermione are holding hands. With our height difference Hermione's hand is too low, so I tuck her arm into mine.

The Durmstrang ship is moored some distance away, but I think I see somebody swimming. "Since you brought it up, I think a nice run might be good for us. Whatever the Tasks are, being in good physical shape isn't going to hurt." I point toward the ship, specifically the water around it. "I think that's Krum."

"Swimming in November?" Harry asks in shock. "Is he mental?"

Hermione glances at me, or rather my lack of cloak. "Speaking of mental, why don't you have a cloak on?"

"I enjoy the cold," I say with a shrug.

"Nonsense, William, we should go up and—"

"Hermione," Harry warns in a whisper.

"It's okay, Harry. I only have one cloak, Hermione, and it's too heavy for this weather." I give her a reassuring smile at her embarrassment. "I was telling the truth, you know. I do enjoy the cold." I look back at the ship and give a chuckle and a nod toward it. "Not enough to do that, of course."

"Supposedly that's a good way to get your heart rate up," Hermione says quickly. I assume she's glad for the subject change.

"Do you want me to ask if he'd like some company?" I ask with a grin, recalling her and Krum's relationship.

She makes a face at that. "I think we should stick with running."

"Ah, so you're on board then? That's good, considering Harry and I caught you easily enough. We'll start slow for you." I take a couple leaping strides away from the whack I know is coming and spin to face her, grinning madly.

"Oh, that's it," she says, dropping her bag. It lands hard.

"Oh, bugger," I say, but my pathetic excuse for a British accent only turns her grin more evil.

* * *

"Hello, William, Hermione, Harry."

I look up from my stretching to find Luna approaching with Neville, both of them wearing what appears to be workout clothing just like we are. Well, like Hermione is, anyway. Harry has some of Dudley's stained and baggy clothing on, and I've also borrowed a pair of old Dudders' sweatpants.

"Hey guys," Neville says with a nervous grin.

"Hey Luna, Neville," I say with a happy smile, "what's up?" It's quite unusual to see Luna out like this.

Luna raises an eyebrow, then looks up. "The Sun, the sky, the clouds, you know, the usual. I'm sure the heliopaths are up there as well."

"Sorry," I say quickly, cutting off Hermione's inevitable comment on imaginary creatures. "I meant to ask what you guys were doing out here."

"We saw you running the past two days," Neville said, shifting his weight. "We thought we might join you, i-if that's okay."

So Neville and Luna have been meeting in the mornings. Interesting. I glance at Harry with a raised eyebrow and slight grin. "We're helping Harry train for the Tournament."

"Oh...well in that case..." Neville says.

Harry grins too. "Nonsense, we'd be happy to have you."

"Let's start over with the stretching," Hermione suggests. "I'm still sore anyway."

"My gran was very angry about your name coming out of the Goblet, Harry," Neville says while we stretch. "She said Dumbledore and Crouch would both be getting a Howler." He shudders at the thought.

"She doesn't think I entered myself?" Harry asks, surprised.

"No, and we don't either," Neville replies, gesturing toward Luna. Then he glances at me nervously. "Of course, your little wandless display that night helped."

I freeze, and so does Harry and Hermione. Luna continues to bounce happily in her stretching, ignoring Hermione's previous protests against poor stretching practices.

"I don't know what you mean," I say, voice entirely devoid of discomfort.

"It's okay, William, everybody else had their attention focused on Harry, after all. They talked about it, after you left and when you and Harry weren't around. Nobody ever mentioned the fact that you weren't touching a wand."

"Ah, bit of a fluke, I suppose," I say.

"I suppose," Neville says, in a voice that makes it clear that he, in fact, doesn't.

* * *

Harry does quite an admirable job ignoring the jeers over the next couple of weeks. Not to toot my own horn but I have to admit to feeling like I can take credit for some of that. Perhaps most of the credit goes to the fact that he has a lot more important things to think about. Having much of the school's scorn directed at you probably doesn't feel so damaging when you're destined to battle the most dangerous Dark Lord in history to the death.

But then, when it comes to Draco Malfoy, schoolyard scorn hits Harry a little harder than it otherwise should. Outside the Potions dungeon classroom awaits a small contingent of Gryffindors being held up by what must be the entire group of Fourth Year Slytherins, wearing large badges whose glowing red words shine brightly in the dimly lit corridor.

_Support Cedric Diggory—The REAL Hogwarts Champion!_

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy says loudly as Harry, Hermione, and I come near. "And this isn't all they do—look!"

_POTTER STINKS!_

"Oh very funny," Hermione says sarcastically, "really witty." She stares daggers at Pansy Parkinson and her gaggle of girls, several of whom were laughing harder than Draco. One particularly attractive raven-haired girl standing behind Pansy merely watches Harry, then Hermione when she speaks, then turns her ice-blue eyes on me. I give her a small smile, after which she knits her brows together and then looks back to Malfoy.

"Want one, Granger?" says Malfoy, holding one out to her. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

I vaguely remember some spells flying at this point, and I feel more than see Harry stiffen with rage. I think I'd best step in again, so I give Hermione a nudge hard enough to knock into Harry.

"You might want to check your hand for slime one more time," I say, slipping my right hand into my pocket to pretend like I'm using my wand and waving my left hand in his direction and pushing out a small trickle of magic.

The badge melts into a greenish brown sludge, causing Draco to jump back in alarm with a yelp. I vanish the sludge shortly after the reaction. He turns his best death glare to me. "How dare you! Just wait until my father hears about this, Lerner! Your bloodline won't save you this time!" He swings the glare back to Harry. "You're lucky you have a pureblood bodyguard to—"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr. Malfoy," I say nonchalantly. "And besides, I lied. My parents are Muggles." I smile as I scan the Slytherin cloud for a pair of piercing blue eyes. "Oops. Between the headmaster, your Head of House, and the three of us standing over here, you might want to rethink the whole blood purity thing." I gather a larger trickle of magic in my hand while I talk, waiting for the reply. I am not disappointed.

Malfoy whips out his wand. "_Densaugeo_!"

A large, shimmering blue shield leaps into existence between the two groups, absorbing the spell with minimal weakening.

"That wasn't very civilized," I say.

"And what is all this about?" says a soft, deadly voice.

"They attacked me, sir!" Draco says in his petulant, accusatory tone. "And he said you're a—"

"My apologies, Professor," I say, cutting Draco off and allowing my shield to dissipate slowly. Snape is staring at Harry, so I figure I might as well continue redirecting Slytherin ire my way. "That was my shield, sir. Mr. Malfoy didn't appreciate me encouraging my classmates to think more critically about their positions on blood purity." I almost say that blood purity doesn't matter where I come from, but it occurs to me that Snape might actually know something about the wizarding world in the United States that I don't.

I can feel Snape looking at me, but I keep my eyes downward. Without a word, Snape spins on his heel and walks back into his classroom, leaving the door open in silent command to follow him.

Draco glares and mouths 'mudblood' at me and I chuckle softly in response before he turns and stomps into the lab. As we allow the rest of the Slytherins to file in, I catch the same raven-haired girl's eyes, which remains on me in an unreadable expression. As her classmates in front of her make their way into the Potions lab, my eyes flicker down to note that she isn't wearing the badge, though there's no telling if she took it off when Snape had come out.

"You never told me you're a Muggleborn," Hermione whispers.

I turn to find her and Harry staring at me, and I look surprised. "I didn't? I guess it never came up. Besides, blood status doesn't really matter, does it?" I add the last with a smile.

"Of course not..."

"Thanks, William," Harry says quietly. "I wasn't planning on using a shield."

"I figured as much," I say, but we're about to enter the lab and I have a feeling Snape will be looking for a reason to take away points.

Hermione seems to realize that, too. "We'll talk later."

* * *

A/N:

That really was the best I could do with the prophecy without looking it up. Kind of sad, really, considering the number of times I must have seen it by now.

Also, I realize 'I' am kind of a badass Gary Stu. But I'm having fun. I am also an imperfect narrator, so since the entire story is from 'my' point of view, I can embellish things and you can't do anything about it! Ha ha!

R & R, C & C


	9. Chapter 9: Reptilian Redemption

Disclaimer: I wandlessly cast an Ownership Charm on the Harry Potter universe, but it still belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Nine: Operation Reptilian Redemption**

"Sorry about your luck, Harry," I say, cursing myself for forgetting that he had to leave double Potions for the Rita Skeeter interview, and then the Weighing of the Wands ceremony. Had I remembered that, we could have avoided the encounter outside the Potions lab and I could have warned him about the little beetle somehow.

"You couldn't have known," he says, waving it away, but I could tell he was still upset about Skeeter.

"You never told me you're a Muggleborn!" Hermione whispers once again at the dinner table.

I grin at her once again. "I should have kept my cover story. Nobody would mess with the grandson of Dark Lord Sidious." I do my best Darth Vader breathing impression, then hold my hand, palm down, out in her direction. "I find your lack of faith disturb—ow!"

"Don't you dare try to Force-choke me!" Hermione whispers furiously as I rub my wrist.

I laugh. "I wasn't going to—" A lightbulb goes off in my head. "Aww, can I please try to Force-choke somebody, Hermione? That would be so awesome!"

"No, William!"

I droop my head and pout. "Yes, Dark Lady."

"I wish I could Force-choke you sometimes."

"If that is thy bidding, my master."

Hermione huffs in indignation but ignores my continuing jibes. "So, back to being Muggleborn...was it the same way for you as it was for me when you first went to your school? What about the magical government, is it as backwards as it is here? What was your reaction when you found out about House Elves and other magical creatures?"

"Hermione, Hermione, calm down," Harry says, patting her on the back. "Don't pester the man."

I try to answer her questions to the best of my ability without contradicting any back story that I might have told her before, so I stumble through and shrug an awful lot. "At school I got to see some granians like those winged horses that Beauxbatons used..." I trail off when I catch sight of a pair of icy-blue eyes fixed on me between Harry and Hermione's heads. "Hermione, what can you tell me about that attractive Slytherin girl in our year with long, black hair and light blue eyes?"

Her head cocks backward. "Surely you don't mean Pansy—"

"No, I did say attractive," I interrupt with a smile. Actually Pansy isn't bad to look at, but I'm not going to say that to Hermione. "And she was back behind Pansy when the Slytherins stopped us outside the Potions lab."

Hermione furrows her brows a moment, then her face lights up when she comes up with the answer. "You must mean Daphne Greengrass." How about that, she might actually fit her popular fanfiction persona. "I believe she's first in our year among Slytherins and something like fourth or fifth overall, but she's quiet so I've never actually heard her speak, let alone spoken to her myself. So I'm surprised you noticed her. I have seen her in the library occasionally, though."

"Hmm, interesting," I say, stroking my non-existent goatee. Hey, I almost forgot I could get away with not shaving at this age.

"Why?"

"She was looking at me strangely this afternoon outside the Potions lab, and while the Slytherins entered the lab, I noticed she wasn't wearing Draco's badge. I think she's been trying to catch my eye ever since then."

"Well, you should go talk to her," Hermione says in an uncharacteristically stiff voice.

Her tone snaps my attention back to her. She turns her face away as it reddens slightly. "Not yet. The table's crowded with Durmstrang students, so I wouldn't be able to sit down, and there's no telling if she'd actually speak to me in front of her Housemates."

"Why would you want to talk to a Slytherin, anyway?" Harry asks, perplexed at our exchange.

"I call it Operation Woo Slytherins So Harry Doesn't Have To Fight Them Later."

"I think Operation code names are there so you don't have to actually describe the whole thing every time," Hermione says with an eye roll.

"Hmm," I say, continuing to stroke my chin, "fair enough, then I'll call it Operation Snake Charmer."

"That sounds dirty," Hermione says, making a face.

"That's because your mind is in the gutter again. How about Operation Reptilian Redemption?"

She lifts an eyebrow at that. "That's...actually a good idea, promoting inter-House relations and all. I think Dumbledore and the other professors would approve." Then her eyes flicker to the end of the Head table, where Snape sits. "Well, most of them, anyway."

"And don't worry about Ms. Greengrass, Hermione. I'll always love you and Harry the mostest."

"You know it's really bizarre when you say stuff like that," Harry says.

"Hey, what can I say? I'm brutally honest and open with my feelings. I call it a gift of truth."

"Well people don't throw around the 'L' word lightly around here," Hermione says in a tight voice. "Especially not for – as you say – platonic relationships."

"Oh they don't do it where I come from, either. I just do it to freak you guys out a bit. Besides, when it comes to romantic relationships, it doesn't matter how many times you've just thrown the word around...when you feel it, it still punches you in the chest, makes it hard to breathe, makes you dizzy..." I trail off into silence.

"How would you know that?" Hermione asks in a small voice.

"Somebody told me that, once," I lie. I think she sees through it, but she doesn't call me on it this time. "Anyway, I need to be more Slytherin about it. Hermione, do you have two sheets of parchment and a quill handy?"

She digs in her bag for a surprisingly short amount of time before wordlessly handing them over. Along the top of one sheet I write a quick message.

_Walk with me? - Lerner_

I hand Hermione the empty one and ask her to pass it to Daphne. She taps a Hufflepuff, who shrugs and hands it across the table, and so on until it reaches the intended target. Daphne flips it over and looks back at me with narrowed eyes. A small trickle of magic later, I give her a nod.

"Impressive switching spell, William," Hermione says grudgingly.

I grin. "Easier than enchanting both of them, I figure."

The Slytherin girl doesn't notice at first, so I tap the paper with my other hand and give her another nod. Her head jerks back slightly in surprise when she looks down. After she turns to someone sitting next to her and gestures in my direction, I see her digging out a quill and scratching out a quick reply. She pulls out her wand and the parchment with the note returns to me. Under my chicken scratch, written in impeccably neat script despite her apparent haste, is an equally short message.

_Ask me tomorrow. - D_

I smile, and as I look up I see Hermione shift uncomfortably so I hand her the note. "Operation Reptilian Redemption is a go."

"You know, I liked Operation Snake Charmer better," Harry says.

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione says grumpily.

* * *

At breakfast the next day, Daphne makes no attempt to make eye contact with me. I'm annoyed at myself for being a little offended by that, but I ignore it and continue eating. I hope to visit Professors Babbling and Vector about the runic wards I'm planning, but that's when Hermione gasps and the whispers and finger-pointing from other tables starts up.

"What's wrong, Hermione?"

"That!" she says, moving the Saturday edition of the Daily Prophet in front of Harry and jabbing her finger at it. "That's what's wrong!"

Harry takes a minute and flushes red. "I told you that bloody Skeeter woman was writing much more than what I was saying," he growls, then passes the paper to me.

Ah yes, the first of many Prophet articles that portray Harry in a less-than-flattering light. I delicately fold up the paper and set it back down in front of Hermione. "Well, at least it wasn't completely fabricated."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asks incredulously. "She made me look like a...like a..."

"Yeah, there is that," I say, opening my hands in a placating gesture, "but the part about Hermione was accurate." I smile and lean in to whisper the rest. "You do love each other and she is a stunningly pretty Muggleborn who is one of the top students at the school."

Hermione turns beet red and looks down at the table. "You know, if it wasn't you saying that, then I know it would be teasing and I'd have to hex you."

"See? It's a good thing I've been throwing around the 'L' word, since now the article doesn't seem so bad. Between that and being the first one to point out your allure, I'm scooping the Prophet left and right."

"Will you stop already?" Hermione pleads. "We're already embarrassed enough and now a bunch of people are looking at us."

"Let's get started on our run and then go see Hagrid," Harry suggests quickly, and he and Hermione practically leap away from the table.

Neville stands and looks pointedly at Luna, and the two of them leave as well.

I sigh and stand up to follow for moral support, postponing my plans to start on Harry's Christmas gift.

"Bit of a third wheel, aren't you?" one of the twins asks with a wide grin before I walk past them.

"Yeah, I don't think they'll appreciate you walking in on their morning snogging session," the other one says.

I consider making an entirely inappropriate suggestion regarding three-ways, but I'm sure whatever I say will be overheard, and Hermione might actually kill me if I do that. "Well I do have to keep them out of trouble now that the secret's out," I say instead.

The three of us share a laugh at that. "Decent prank by the Prophet," one says loudly.

"Not up to our standards of course..."

"But that's well-played, pretending to go along with it even when it's obviously a pile of rubbish."

"I'll pass on your compliments," I say, giving them a wave. They were talking in the usual Weasley voice, so I know a good portion of the student body heard that exchange.

* * *

We spend lunch with Hagrid, along with most of the rest of the day, in order to escape the teasing. I bring my completed picture frames and show them to Hagrid while we have their backs turned to Harry and Hermione. I throw a smile over my shoulder when I hear how much she's squirming trying to resist the urge to peek.

"Beautiful detail work, that is," Hagrid says jovially, running his enormous fingers around the flat circle on the upper left that contains a cleanly-etched rune of peace.

"Thanks for everything, Hagrid," I say sincerely. Pulling out the rolled up cloth with the hand tools I used, I frown at them. I don't want to give them back since I may need them again, but I suppose I can just ask to borrow them again later. "Here are your tools back."

"No, no, none of that now. I want you to have them. My dad would want them in the hands of someone that can make things like this; they're too small for me." He rubs tears from his eyes at this and I'm forced to look away. I know Hagrid is a bit of a crier, but I can't stand seeing grown men cry. "I'm right proud of you for this, you know."

I'm glad he takes the opportunity to pat me on the back with excessive force, which knocks loose the lump in my throat. "Thank you," I say quietly.

Harry clears his throat after I've stowed my gifts and my new carving tools. "Well, we'd best be heading up for dinner. I suspect the crowd will want to have their targets for scorn and ridicule back."

Hermione sinks into her chair so I try to cheer her up. "Like I said, Hermione, I think the Weasley Twins may have set a few people straight about your part, at least. So maybe it'll go back to being all heaped on Harry, as usual."

"That wouldn't make me feel better, William," she answers.

I shrug. "It would probably help Harry a bit, though."

The point, we soon found, was moot.

* * *

"Alright, that's it," I say, pushing out a trickle of magic.

"Hey, Granger, did y—" the voice was drowned out by white noise, the droning buzz that can be heard by tuning a radio to a frequency between radio stations.

Harry and Hermione's redness fades, and they both look up at me, perplexed.

"What's that buzzing?" Harry asks.

"What is this spell?" Hermione asks at the same time.

"The incantation is _muffliato_," I say. "Sorry, I don't know the wand motion, but maybe there isn't much of one or you don't need it."

"Wow, can anybody outside of this hear us?" Hermione asks.

"I don't think so."

She raises an eyebrow and speaks quietly. "That's not very reassuring."

I glance around and see Ginny Weasley sitting near Ron. "I've heard Ginny Weasley has snogged half the boys in our dormitory," I say loudly.

Hermione gasps. "That's awful, William!"

"It looks like it works, though," Harry points out, "Ron isn't trying to kill me or her."

Hermione looks at me suspiciously again. "Where'd you learn this one?"

"Snape invented it, actually," I say with a grin. "Back in his Hogwarts days."

"Really?" Harry asks, surprised.

"Oh yeah, his main claim to fame was being a Potions prodigy, but he also created this spell, along with a really dark cutting curse that is resistant to magical healing. Anything cut off with it can't be grown back at all." They both look at me in shock. "Well, don't look at me like that, I doubt I can do it. As far as I know you just say the incantation, and then you swipe your wand back and forth like it's a giant sword."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione says in horror. "How could someone like that be allowed to teach children?"

Harry says nothing, but he looks a bit ill as well.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about this while people are jeering at us," I point out. "They might mistake your faces for actual reactions. Or you could seek the Void."

"Good idea," Hermione says, shaking her head to rid herself of those dark thoughts and closing her eyes.

After half a minute, Harry's eyes come back into focus and he clears his throat. "So, what'd you make Hermione for Christmas?"

This has the effect of immediately removing Hermione's concentration on nothingness.

"Well, you guys already know that I've been carving, so I guess it won't be too much of a surprise," I say, rubbing my chin and looking upward as if considering it. "Oh alright. Don't tell her, but it's..." I lean in with my hand blocking my mouth from her view, but I whisper loud enough for her to hear, "...a secret."

"Prat," Hermione says, sitting back with a pout.

"I can't tell Harry," I point out, "you'd just use your feminine wiles to squeeze the truth out of him."

Her eyes bulge. "My _what_?"

"You know, make puppy dog eyes, bat your eyelashes, purse your lips, use suggestive language, your usual tricks."

"I do not use suggestive language," she says with a sniff. "You do that, Mr. Euphemism."

"Oh you know I do, baby," I say, waggling my eyebrows exaggeratedly.

"That...is disturbing, don't do that again," Hermione shudders. "It's even worse than your fake English accent."

"Sorry. I notice you didn't completely deny using your feminine wiles to get your way."

"If I had any to begin with – which I don't – why wouldn't I just use them on you?"

"You're too sneaky for that. If you knew that I knew that you knew what your gift is, it wouldn't be as fun for you."

"Well I'm lost," Harry says.

"You seem to have given my alleged feminine wiles a lot of thought," Hermione says with a raised eyebrow.

I grin widely at that. "Ah ha! Suggestive language!"

"What? No! That was...I didn't mean..."

I give my best evil laugh and make my voice gravelly. "Yes...yes! Embrace your feminine wiles, temptress. Soon every male in this school shall be as putty in your delicate hands!" My evil laugh grows eviler.

"What have you done to me?" Hermione laments, face dropping into her hands.

"Hermione, you couldn't be evil if you tried," Harry says with a smile, shaking his head at my antics.

She tilts her head, peering out at Harry with a single eye. "Trying reverse psychology on me now, Harry?"

"Maybe," he says with a smile. "No, I'm being honest, there isn't an evil bone in your body."

She lifts her head and smiles thankfully at him, giving him a shy little nudge.

"Despite Harry ruining my fun by being serious, I have to agree. Anybody who's really close to you couldn't possibly go Dark," I say, "you wouldn't let them."

"How do we explain you, then?" she asks, eyes twinkling.

"Oh ho ho!" I say, and the three of us have a good laugh. "So you admit that I'm close to you, then?"

She blushes a bit. "You know you are, William. I can't imagine why you would think otherwise. You've done so much for us this year."

"I don't know how we got along without you, mate," Harry says.

"Oh I'm sure you would have bumbled your way through somehow," I say with a knowing smirk. That morphs into a big grin. "I knew you guys would finally admit your love for me. You just couldn't help it, could you?"

"Ugh, you just had to ruin the moment," Hermione says, making a face.

"Hey, that's what I do. I'm the Moment Ruiner."

"An apt moniker if I've ever heard one...that describes you perfectly," Hermione says with a laugh. "What's my nickname?"

"Wily Seductress," I say without hesitation.

Hermione smacks her forehead. "I walked right into that one."

"You know," Harry says, "you're going to have a hand-shaped indent on your forehead before too long."

"I wonder who's fault that is," she says with a mock glare.

"All in a day's work for...the Moment Ruiner!" I announce in my best superhero voice.

"I think our moments are well and truly ruined, sir," Harry says.

"Excellent! My work here is done."

"Yes, aren't you supposed to see about ruining someone else's moments right about now?" Hermione asks.

"Oh yeah!" I scan the Slytherin table and find Daphne sitting within my line of sight over Harry's outside shoulder. Sure enough, a moment later her eyes flicker over to me and she does a double take at finally getting my attention. I feel a little bad for not looking earlier. She holds up the sheet of parchment, and I bring out mine along with a quill. I don't see her wand perform the switching spell, but sure enough, I'm left holding a blank parchment. I see her bend over the parchment and scratch out a message in a matter of seconds, and the papers switch again.

Under her last message, the same neat script forms another message.

_After dinner? - D_

My smile widens, and I write back.

_Stairs outside Great Hall, seventh floor landing. Alone? - Lerner_

A pair of switching spells later I have an answer.

_Alone. Ten minutes. - D_

"I don't like this," Hermione says uncertainly. "What if it's a trap?"

"I agree," Harry says.

"What would they want to trap me for? It's you they don't like, Harry," I argue.

"Maybe that was true before you essentially insulted the entire group of Fourth Year Slytherins, William," Hermione says.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," Hermione scolds, crossing her arms. "I don't think you should go."

"How about you guys grab the Map, and watch out for me that way. They won't kill me, so just run to a Professor if a bunch of them show up. I can probably handle them if it's just Malfoy and his trolls. I wouldn't be worried if she had a couple of her friends hovering nearby just to make sure she's safe. In fact, I would be surprised if she didn't take that precaution."

"I think she's friends with Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini," Hermione says.

"Well there you go, if it's just them, I'm sure I'll be fine." I give her a mischievous grin. "If not I've always got _incendios grata_..."

"William Arthur Lerner don't make me bludgeon you from across this table," Hermione warns.

"Arthur?"

"I didn't know your middle name except for the initial so I guessed," she says with a shrug.

"Well keep trying, I look forward to hearing what you come up with."

* * *

"Don't try anything funny," a cold and surprisingly deep feminine voice orders.

I turn my head toward the top of the last flight of stairs to find ice-blue eyes narrowed and trained on me.

"Good evening Ms. Greengrass. Do you mind if I come up to the corridor first? I don't fancy getting cursed and falling down the stairs."

"A wizard would not die from such a fall, and I saw how fast you put up that Shield Charm."

"All the same, I'd rather not chance it." I don't mention that I'm not holding any magic, so she could definitely hit me with whatever she wants.

She glides out of sight and I make my way up. In my peripheral vision I see her still pointing her wand at me, but I stand a good half foot taller than her, so she's not quite as imposing. Instead of turning to her, I go to Luna's window. "It's a beautiful view, is it not?"

She ignores my question. "Why did you want to speak with me?"

I sigh. I should have guessed Luna's trick wouldn't work. "I saw you watching outside Potions lab. I saw that you either weren't wearing the badge or you took it off before your classmates did. So I wanted to meet you."

"You're a Gryffindor."

"At Hogwarts, I guess," I say with a shrug. "We didn't have Houses at my old school."

She regards me silently. Apparently reassured that I haven't made a move, she lowers her wand, but does not put it away. "I spoke to my father about you," she says, voice softening slightly. "About...what you said."

"About blood purity?"

"Yes," she says, but does not elaborate.

"Any conclusions?" I ask finally.

"You're either very foolish, or very brilliant."

I laugh. "If those are the only two options, then I shall endeavor to err on the side of brilliance."

Her lips tighten, but not before the edges curl up in a ghost of a smile. "Foolish it is, then."

I smile. "Would you like to walk? The sun sets on the other side of the quad." She doesn't respond, so I push a little more. "You can keep your wand pointed at me, if you like. Only I'd appreciate it if you didn't hurt me."

She nods and I smile again. Small victories. I push out a trickle of magic for another _muffliato_ around the two of us. Since there isn't much sound up here, the buzzing is noticeably quieter.

"What's that sound?" Daphne asks in alarm, glancing around trying to find the source.

"That was me, just a little Privacy Charm. I didn't think you would want to be overheard by unfriendly ears. I can take it down if you like."

"I didn't see you use your wand."

I smile conspiratorially. "Why, we just met, Ms. Greengrass. I can't have you knowing all my secrets just yet. Would you like me to dispel it?"

She falls silent, her look inscrutable. "No, it is acceptable." Then her eyes light up. "You used this at dinner, didn't you? That's why Potter and Granger stopped reacting to others."

I give her a sly smile. "Guilty as charged." We resume walking. "So did your father elaborate?"

After a moment, she speaks. "My father is a brilliant man. My family is not as wealthy as the Blacks or Longbottoms or even the Potters, even though we can trace the Greengrass lineage just as far. We are not like the Malfoys, who marry into every rich family their sons can infect so they can build influence by greasing the hands of corrupt politicians and ruining honest ones. But neither are we like the Weasleys, who throw their lot in completely for lofty ideals and no guarantee of success. We were neutral in the last war."

She pauses, but I make no objection, so she continues.

"I expected you to say something exceedingly Gryffindor about cowardice," she says, pausing again. "Is it cowardice to want to ensure your the safety of your family? Of your children? I think not. The Malfoys might seem to have come out of it unscathed, but it cost them quite a bit of their fortune to escape Azkaban with the Dark Mark on his arm. The Greengrasses could not afford that luxury. That's not to say my father would have joined them if he could afford it, of course. But the alternative – openly siding with Dumbledore and his ilk – would have been only slightly less damaging to our House and even more dangerous for our family."

That part doesn't sit terribly well with me, but I don't want to stop her.

"But my father thinks next time will be different. The Death Eaters are moving again. The World Cup was just the beginning, he says, and they will be more desperate. Thus, choosing a side will turn out to be very brilliant, or very foolish."

I sense this is the end of her spiel. "So by standing out against pureblood supremacy, I am supposedly choosing a side."

"Not supposedly, you are. And that's even _without_ thwarting the Malfoy spawn, which put you solidly on the other side. My father says pureblood supremacy is indeed rubbish, but he also says we would be foolish not to use other people's stupidity for our own gain."

"Sounds quite Slytherin of him," I say with a chuckle.

"He is a brilliant man," she says simply.

"It's a shame there aren't more like him," I say honestly. "Maybe then the fools would realize what it means that the so-called Dark Lord is barely even a half blood."

"What?" Daphne asks, taken aback. That is the most emotion she's shown the entire time.

I chuckle grimly. "His father, Tom Riddle Senior, was a muggle, before Tom Junior killed him. His mother, Merope Gaunt, barely ranked above a Squib: the inbred daughter of a brother and sister, whose parents were also no further than cousins, all within the desolate Gaunt family." Not sure how closely related Riddle magical ancestors were, but I know that was about right. "If I recall correctly, Merope herself was married to her brother Morfin, but she dosed Riddle with love potions and raped him. Then she stopped and hoped he would stay, but he left her. She died when her son was very young."

Daphne's eyes are bulging at this new piece of information.

"Dumbledore...he would tell you that this is the reason Tom Riddle Jr. turned out to be so evil. He would say that Riddle never knew love, and so grew into the monster that he is."

I have a feeling that would have earned a scoff any other time, but she still seemed to be too stunned to say anything, so I continue.

"It's not true, though. You've probably heard from your Head of House that Harry is a spoiled, pampered child, but he never was except maybe before his parents died, and of course he doesn't remember that. His aunt and uncle made him sleep in a cupboard all the way up until he came to Hogwarts. In fact, the first time he can remember ever receiving a hug was from Hermione after she was cured of her petrification in your Second Year."

I chuckle at her still flabbergasted expression.

"Of course, I put up this privacy charm for a reason. I expect you realize how dangerous and valuable this information is. About Riddle, I mean. I imagine few people in Slytherin would appreciate hearing, let alone believe, the bit about Harry. I'd appreciate you keeping that to yourself as well, by the way."

"Why did you tell me this?" Daphne asks when she finally regains the composure to speak.

That's a good question. "I have a bet going with Harry that there are good Slytherins out there," I lie with a smile.

She sees right through it. "Why did you really?"

"I wasn't planning on it," I say honestly. "I was just winging it."

She scoffs and then looks at me more closely. "You really didn't plan that? No wonder they didn't put you in Slytherin!"

"I blame it on you," I say, not taking offense. "Pretty girls seem to have that effect on me."

Do I spot a faint blush? Probably my imagination. "Typical Gryffindor, laying blame on everybody but yourself."

"You didn't check to see if I was telling the truth that time," I say with a grin. To head off her indignant reply I charge ahead. "Besides, who wants the hassle of being sneaky all the time? It's much easier to fake your way through it until you get called out on it, then tell the naked truth."

"Can't handle it, can you?"

"Nope!"

"You're hopeless."

"I get that a lot."

"I bet."

I chuckle at that, and I see that we've finally meandered to the far side where the sun sets, so I stop at a window and look out. I smile when she does the same. We both remain quiet at the window for a minute. "So what do you think?"

"About?"

"My brilliant plan to befriend a Slytherin, is it working?"

She lets out an incredulous breath. "How do your friends even talk to you?"

"They mostly just tolerate me," I say with a grin.

"I could tell. They looked like they weren't sure if they wanted to throttle you, bang their heads against the table, or laugh their heads off."

"It alternates surprisingly quickly. They told me it's a gift."

"I'm sure they meant a curse," Daphne says, rolling her eyes.

"It keeps them on their toes. Plus they aren't Slytherins, so they don't mind a little honesty." I chuckle as the next thought strikes me. "Not too much honesty, of course, but a little."

"I get the feeling you cross that line quite a bit."

"When it pleases me. A few weeks ago I pointed out rather bluntly that Harry and Hermione love each other."

"_What_? It's _actually true_ what the Prophet said?" Once again I break through her hard exterior, which makes me have to suppress a smile.

"I suppose it is, if you take it at face value. You know there are different kinds of love. They aren't a couple romantically, though, if that's what you mean. Just this evening I pointed out that they love me, too. That was one of the times they wanted to bang their heads on the table earlier."

"That's...you...I can't...I don't even know what to say to you."

I chuckle at her sputtering. "Like I said, keeps people on their toes."

"You won't be speaking to me like that," she says firmly.

"Of course not. I don't love you."

"Good," she says with a nod.

"...Yet."

She makes a gagging sound. "Why am I even still talking to you?"

"Well I'm talking to you because you're interesting and attractive, if that helps."

"I'm not sure interesting is the right word to describe you," she says, voice dripping with scorn.

"Jury's still out on attractive, then?" I ask with a grin.

She makes a sound not unlike a snort and just shakes her head.

"Well, if you figure it out, let me know. The alternative for interesting, that is. Perhaps I might suggest debonair? After all, I dropped a massive information bomb on you and then I manage to throw you off balance enough that you never asked how I know all those things."

She looks shocked at that. Direct hit! "H-how do you?"

"That wasn't very Slytherin of you."

"Well you were up front about everything—" her eyes widen dramatically.

"—that doesn't matter much." I finish for her, letting a little smugness into my smile.

"You—_you planned all that_?" she asks incredulously.

"Nope, just winged it."

She stares at me for a few moments before she begins to chuckle quietly, and then her shoulders begin shaking in mirth. Before long it grows in volume to a beautifully full belly laugh that I can't help but join. "This," she says when her laughter has died down to brief fits, "is the most preposterous, most enlightening, and most frustrating conversation I've ever had."

"I will gladly accept that as a compliment."

"You would."

"So can we have more of them?"

She makes a sort of half-sigh, half growl. "No respectable Slytherin could allow you to get away without finding out more of your secrets, I suppose."

"Oh and they're such delicious ones, too," I say. After a few moments of silence, I look at her more seriously. "What if I were to come to you with a complex problem...one that requires far more cunning than I or my poor, honest, fellow Gryffindors can muster?"

She lifts an eyebrow at my sudden change in tone, then makes another rather unladylike snort. "You got me to agree to meet with you more often, and then you go and drop this on me? If you're friends with Potter, then it's probably something huge and stupid that has to do with thwarting a Dark Lord or two. Trust me, I've heard the stories. That could end very badly for me, you know."

"Oh, I'm sure we can bluster through it, if you're not interested," I say airily.

"No need for that, Lerner," she growls. "Higher stakes means a bigger challenge. Besides, I find that our current patriarchal society does not suit me, and I imagine Potter's side is far more likely change things for the better. I accept, so long as my involvement remains a secret until I say otherwise."

"Of course, Ms. Greengrass. Also, I would like it if you called me William."

She presses her lips together at me and seems to consider her response for several moments before she sighs. "I suppose you may call me Daphne."

I smile at her, and she gives me a small one back. "I'm glad you came to meet me, Daphne. I must say I greatly enjoyed our date."

"This was not a date."

"I have to admit I'm already finding myself liking you quite a bit."

"Stop talking right now."

"But why? You really can't blame me, with your startlingly gorgeous ice-blue eyes framed by an equally beautiful face and luscious raven-black hair."

She points her wand at my face. "You're going to make me make us both regret agreeing to this, aren't you?"

"But I had a lot more compliments lined up, and they weren't even about your outer beauty this time," I say with an exaggerated pout.

"You don't get to compliment me yet."

My face lights up into a smile. "Yet, huh? So you—"

"Ever. I mean ever."

I continue to grin. "I suppose you've had enough torture for today. Prepare yourself for plenty more shameless pandering where that came from upon our next rendezvous."

"I will hex you in the most painful way I know if you try."

"Daphne," I say, turning my voice serious again. "All kidding aside, I really am glad you came to meet me. You wouldn't stop me from complimenting you by saying I look forward to our next discussion, would you?" I gaze unblinkingly into her eyes. Idly I hope my mind can detect Legilimency, but I can't be sure.

After several moments she looks away with a huff. "I suppose I can't stop you since you already did."

"And I meant it," I say firmly. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Daphne."

I hold out my hand and after a moment's hesitation she takes it gently. "You, too...William."

I smile mischievously when I drop the privacy charm. "I would walk you back to your common room, but your friends are just around the corner," I say, jerking my thumb at the one behind me. I had spotted them peeking earlier. Taking advantage of her surprise, I bend over and lightly press my lips into the back of her hand, then release my light grip. "So I guess this is good night, Daphne."

I stride away in what I hope is a confident manner. I'm quite pleased with myself when I turn the corner without taking some kind of hex in the back.

* * *

A/N:

Daphne Greengrass is much more of a fanon character than anything. I believe the only thing that actually shows up about her in canon is her name being called out to take one of the OWLs, and JKR may have originally intended to name her 'Queenie.' Her sister Astoria later marries Draco, but other than that there's nothing. Tracey Davis is even more of a fanon character, because apparently she only appears in Pottermore. That was surprising to me since I've seen her in fanfiction so often.

So in case you haven't figured it out, I'm a fan of Daphne in fanon, so she is inspired by other fanfic authors' interpretations of her.

R & R, C & C

* * *

OMAKE #1

_I actually tried to write the more lighthearted bit of the second dinner scene in this chapter several times, but it kept coming out too perverted for this story. What follows is actually tame compared to what came out at first (it may have devolved into discussions of individual body parts at one point), but this version still didn't feel right to me. So enjoy this little alternative/bonus scene below._

"Well, you guys already know that I've been carving, so I guess it won't be too much of a surprise," I say, rubbing my chin and looking upward as if considering it. "Oh alright. Don't tell her, but it's..." I lean in with my hand blocking my mouth from her view, but I whisper loud enough for her to hear, "...a wooden lingerie set."

"You...you prat!" Hermione shouts.

"What? He asked! You think that's embarrassing, you should have seen when Hagrid held it up to himself."

"You're disgusting!"

"Hey, look on the bright side, Harry is now picturing you wearing lingerie."

"I-I was not!" Harry insists.

"True, but now you are."

"I hate you."

"I don't see why, we're teenaged boys, she's gorgeous...it was only a matter of time. It's not that we're objectifying you, Hermione. Far from it! We love you for a lot more reasons than your physical beauty; that's just a nice bonus."

"I really don't think I should be hearing this," Hermione whines, dropping her face into her hands.

"Well if you like, you can picture Harry in his underwear, too. Now I don't swing that way, but he's a good-lookin' bloke I think."

"You know, William, I think we need to work on this brutal honesty thing," Harry says, hiding his own face and shaking his head.

"In particular, keeping it to yourself," Hermione finishes.

"You wound me! But just look at the results: you two are finishing each others' sentences now."

"I think it's about time..."

"...we find a new friend."

They look at each other in horror. "Stop it!" they yell in unison.

I laugh uproariously at them. They respond by glaring at me silently, which of course makes me laugh harder. It takes a minute but I finally work myself down to fits of mirth. "Oh man, I love you guys."

"Pleased to know we amuse you," Hermione says in a huff, fast enough that Harry doesn't have time to finish her sentence.


	10. Chapter 10: More Secrets Revealed

Disclaimer: I tried to concoct a deviously brilliant plan to obtain ownership of the Harry Potter universe, but JK Rowling is more cunning than you can even imagine.

Post-review note: I received positive feedback on my omake last chapter, so those people will be happy to know that there is another one at the end of this chapter. There are currently five total (including two for chapter 12), but I'm not quite sure what to do with them. My personal preference as a reader is to keep them them to a minimum (too many and I usually skip them) but leave them inline with their respective chapters. Alternatively I can separate them into their own story, but unless I write more there will only be a couple thousand words total.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Ten: More Secrets Revealed**

"I take it your meeting was a success, then?" Hermione's voice jolts me out of my reverie, and she and Harry appear from underneath the cloak on one of the staircase landings. Harry is folding up the Map.

"It was, indeed," I say, maintaining the grin plastered on my face. "Pay up, I won the bet!"

"We didn't make a bet," Harry says with a confused expression.

"We didn't? Blast!"

Hermione snorts. "What did I tell you about British accents?"

"Oh come on," I pout, "I thought that one was pretty good."

"I thought it was, too," Harry puts in.

"Ha ha! Victory is mine!"

"Well, what happened already?" Hermione asks exasperatedly, blatantly ignoring and purposely cutting short my exultation.

But that doesn't put a damper on my mood. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," I say with a smirk.

Hermione's eyes widen as she gasps. "You didn't!"

"Just the back of her hand, and only while she was too distracted to hex me."

"You're barmy, you know that?" Harry says.

"Masochistic, you said it yourself," I correct him. "It was at the very end there...I was half expecting to get hexed from behind after that. Anyway, she wrote to her father about what I said outside the Potions lab. He said he agrees with me about blood purity, and Daphne holds him in high regard so she believes him. She agreed to help us out."

"Really?" Harry asks, surprise plain on his face.

"Yes, though I imagine it will be a while before she'll actually agree to be seen in public with us."

Harry laughs and shakes his head. "William, that's incredible...I can't believe you got a Slytherin to agree to help us."

"I can't believe you kissed her hand!" Hermione says.

I throw an arm around her and plant a solid kiss on her forehead, just below her hairline. "I know, it was a bit crazy, now that I think about it. It wasn't planned. Your hair smells good by the way."

"William..." she whines, nudging me away.

Seeing her blush and recalling the part of the conversation with Daphne about honesty, I decide to take it a bit further. "You know, now that we've declared our love for each other, I think we should be more affectionate. Can I hug you and kiss you more often as long as we're in private?"

She blushes even deeper. "Why do you have to say things like that?" She hides behind Harry while I laugh at how similar her reaction was to Daphne's.

"Haven't we talked about snogging in front of me?" Harry complains.

"Kissing like that is not snogging, Harry," I say, rolling my eyes. "You should do it, too, her skin is nice to kiss and her hair smells really good. Go on, smell her hair."

"I'm not going to smell her hair!"

"Yeah, I suppose it would be awkward now, but you should still initiate more hugs so you can smell her hair later. She gives really good hugs, too. Hey, speaking of which, you never answered me, Hermione. Hugs and kisses?"

"I suppose you hugged and kissed Daphne, is that what brought this on?" Hermione asks petulantly.

"No, in fact that handshake was the only time we touched...she actually had her wand pointed at me most of the time," I say with a grin.

She sighs. "Well if you must, I _suppose_ it would be okay if you hugged me, but I don't know about—eep!" She squeaks as I scoop her up into a big hug and swing her around.

She stifles a laugh and pounds me on the arm when I set her down. "Prat!"

"Harry, you're really missing out on the hair thing," I say, fighting a laugh, "I'm telling you."

"Stop smelling me! I feel like I need to shower now."

"If you were dirty you wouldn't smell so good," I say, but then I reconsider. "Actually, I take that back, you would probably still smell good just in a different way."

"Well, I take it back, too...no hugging and _definitely_ no kissing." Hermione folds her arms and follows that with a dramatic, "humph."

I stagger as if struck, clapping both hands over my chest. "O cruel unrequited love! O cruel mistress! Wherefore must thou torture me so! Harold, my dear brother, I must entreat thee, allow me to live vicariously through thy sweet embraces with my dearest love Hermione! To suffer entirely without is far too much for my desolate soul to bear. O woe! Woe is me!"

"Okay, okay, stop!" Hermione says, lips pressed together as if fighting a smile. "If you stop with the awful Shakespearean mockery I'll let you hug me," she says, then she quickly holds a hand up to stop me. "Not now! Just...later. Er, generally speaking, that is."

I pout theatrically when she stops me from hugging her again. "Awful? I thought my speech conveyed my self-pity quite effectively."

"Oh it did," Harry says, "you were quite pitiful."

"Thy barbed double entendre strikes at my very heart, brother." I pound a fist on my chest dramatically.

"You aren't really going to start talking like that, are you?" Hermione asks.

"How else am I going to get away with calling you my dearest love without you hurting me? Ow! See!" My grin doesn't fade as I rub my shoulder.

"Well, quit saying things you don't mean!"

"Hmm. Well, logistically speaking, I think it's accurate to say you are my nearest and dearest love. On this side of the pond I only have you and Harry, after all, and you look and smell better. No offense Harry."

"None taken," Harry says with a laugh.

"Of course you have your parents and probably some other family and Harry, so I know I'm probably pretty low in your ordering of dearest loves."

"I've never said I love you," she retorts.

I sigh. "I suppose not." I droop my head. "You make me want to break out into tragic Shakespearean monologues."

"Please don't." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I do though."

"What?"

"L-love you...and Harry," she says sincerely, looking at the floor. "I've never said that to anybody outside of my family. I've never had many friends, and you guys...you're my best friends."

Somehow, hearing her say that feels a lot different than when I'm the one putting the words in her mouth. We all stop walking at her admission and stand in silence.

"Well say something already!" she says with a sniffle.

"Is it later enough to hug you now?" I ask.

"Yes, you big oaf!"

I scoop her up into a bear hug and squeeze her just as firmly as she squeezes me. Her arms might be thin but they're deceptively strong. "You already know I love you."

I set her down after a minute and Harry wraps her in his own hug. It's quiet, but I hear him speak. "I love you too, Hermione."

Hermione chokes down a sob and I can't help but smile as I wipe the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes. When they finally break apart, Hermione tries for several moments to dry her face using her sleeves.

We resume walking silently, Harry and Hermione holding hands while I have Hermione's other arm locked in mine.

"You were right about one thing, William," Harry says after some time. "Her hair does smell really nice."

Hermione shakes her head, but she can't hide the smile that ruins her feeble attempt at indignation.

I grin. "Told ya so! Though I am a bit disappointed, Harry. You should have went for a kiss on the cheek, too. She would have let you."

"Ugh, not now, Moment Ruiner," Hermione says with false sincerity.

"I know, I know, I just implied that it was too late."

"Maybe not," she says, then leans over and pecks Harry on the cheek, surprising him and making him blush.

"Way to go, Harry!" I say, clapping him on the back. I let them both blush for a short while before I speak up again. "Although, I'm feeling left out now. I mean, I kissed Hermione, she kissed you...so come on, Harry, get over here. It's only fair to complete the cycle. Which cheek do you want?" I squeeze them both while Hermione starts giggling uncontrollably. "I'd say my right cheek is slightly softer than my left. Or there's my forehead, I guess, but my hair won't smell as good as hers."

"You're an odd bloke, William," Harry says. "An odd bloke."

* * *

The next week goes by rather smoothly. Hermione figures out how to cast _muffliato _and shares it with Harry, so either of them can escape the whispers either when they're alone or together without me. Harry still gets some grief in Divination on Monday while Hermione and I are in Arithmancy, but he keeps his anger in check admirably.

Daphne and I share a few glances, but I'm too busy training with Harry and working on my runic ward stones to offer to meet with her. Hermione and I push Harry to learn the Summoning Charm that we, quite conveniently, covered last week in Charms class. It occurs to me that I might offer an alternative solution to getting past the dragon, but he completes the Task faster than the other Champions in canon so I figure I should probably let him go with his plan from canon, assuming Moody/Crouch still gives him the hint.

On second thought, maybe I ought to go ahead and give him the hint myself. On third thought, maybe I should give him some extra ideas so he doesn't take a massive dragon tail spike to the shoulder.

"What do you guys think about Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Hermione asks, looking up from her Friday morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

"I could use a break from training," Harry admits.

"I'm looking forward to checking it out," I say. "There's a book store, right?"

Hermione's face lights up. "Tomes and Scrolls, yes! We'll definitely go there!"

"Ugh," Harry says, "didn't I just say I could use a break?"

"Oh I'm sure it'll be fun, Harry," Hermione says.

"We don't have to stay long, for Harry's sake. I figure at the very least we'll try to find some obscure books they have and see if the Room can produce them," I say.

"That's brilliant, William!"

"We'll have to get the titles of a good number to check. It won't be a perfect experiment, but it should be interesting enough. How about a clothes shop?"

Hermione frowns. "The only one I know of is Gladrags, but I think they're more for formal witch wear. I haven't been in there, so I don't know what kind of stuff they'd have for you."

"Mm, probably no good for me, then."

Hermione turns away and lifts the paper to try and hide her pained expression.

"I've heard fun things about Zonko's, though," I say with a grin in Harry's direction.

"Now you're talking!" Harry says, sitting up excitedly.

"Oh, no," Hermione says with a worried expression. "The Tournament, Harry! Skeeter is in Hogsmeade!" She sets the paper down, and sure enough, there's an article written by 'Rita Skeeter, reporting from Hogsmeade' about the temporary expansion to the Three Broomsticks to accommodate Tournament attendees and how she's staying in such a room herself.

Harry slouches back down. "Well you guys go ahead, then, I'll sit this one out."

"Gosh, Harry, if only you had a way to come to Hogsmeade without being seen..." I say with a grin.

His eyes light up again and I laugh.

"You'll want to chaperone Hermione and I, anyway. You never know when her scoundrel of a date is going to try and get a little too fresh with her."

"William Allen Lerner, we are not going on a date, and you had better behave yourself!" Hermione scolds.

"Allen, huh? Not bad, but I think you can do better. I'm hoping for something a little more unusual. Like 'Awesome' for example."

"More like 'Awful' I think. And don't make me hex you!"

"Hey, I gotta keep Harry on his toes! It'll be good for his accuracy if he has to hit my hand with a Stinging Hex for roaming a bit."

"I changed my mind, I'm not going," Hermione says.

"Okay, okay, no roaming hands," I say with a laugh, "but if Harry's spell accuracy suffers, I'm blaming it on you."

"Why don't you invite Daphne?" Hermione asks.

My head cocks back in surprise. "Really? I wouldn't think you would be open to—"

"I meant instead of me!" Hermione cuts me off quickly, and sends a red-faced glare my way.

"Too public," I say with a grin. "I haven't had a chance to exchange more than a few cool words with her in the corridors."

"And the occasional smile, I note." She folds her arms and raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

"And those," I admit, "but that doesn't matter because you're my date tomorrow."

"It's not a date!"

"Blast! I guess I'll have to come up with a different reason to kiss you, then."

"Harry, please hex him if he tries."

"Will do," Harry says with a salute. "Sorry, mate."

"Hey, I didn't mean on the lips," I say, opening my hands in a submissive gesture. "How about just a quick peck on the cheek?"

"No."

"Forehead?"

"No."

"Top of the head?"

"No."

"Back of the hand?"

"No."

"How about I blow you a kiss from a few feet away?"

"I'll dodge it."

"I don't know, I can aim those things really well. That sounds like a fun game."

"New plan, Harry, hex him if he even puckers his lips."

Harry laughs at our by-play. "You got it."

I sniff sadly. "I see how it is, Harry, keeping our dearest love all to yourself." I grin at Hermione's continued glare for a few moments, but my grin falters as I realize something. "I suppose it's for the best, actually...if Rita Skeeter catches sight of us kissing, you and I might receive death threats from Harry's fan club." I frown. "Actually, even hugging or holding hands would be enough for that loathsome beetle."

Hermione pales. "I didn't think of that."

"Loathsome beetle?" Harry asks.

"Oh yeah, Rita Skeeter is an unregistered beetle animagus," I say offhand.

"_What_?" Hermione screeches.

"Yeah, I imagine that's how she gets her exclusive scoops sometimes. She's a big blue beetle. I'm sure she'll show up around Harry at some point during the Tournament."

"William, we have to turn her in!" Hermione says.

"I could just wait until I see a beetle like that and then accidentally trip and smash it," Harry suggests.

That gets a gasp from Hermione, but I have to refrain from chuckling since I've seen that happen before. Or read it, rather. "Harry!"

"I did say it would be an accident..." Harry says, but he makes a placating gesture at Hermione's accusing glare. "Oh stop, you know I'm kidding, Hermione."

"Can you just go up to an Auror and say somebody is an illegal animagus?" I ask. "We could come up with a way to capture her and turn her in as a beetle."

"We'll have to keep an eye out for her, then." Hermione says with a frown. "She could spy on us almost anywhere."

"We could use _muffliato_ pretty much all the time, just in case," I suggest.

"That could be difficult," she says, tapping her lips. "And Harry has already discovered that it leaves him vulnerable to getting hexed from behind, since he can't react to the incantation of a spell." She shakes her head. "We're just going to have to be mindful about using it at times like this. For example until you told us about Skeeter, we shouldn't have had it up."

"Sorry, habit," I say.

She waves the apology away to change the subject. "William, how do you know what she is?"

I look at her seriously. "You didn't forget about my secrets, did you?"

She sighs. "Sometimes I do."

"You still love me, don't you?"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not as long as I can use it to make you stop being angry at me."

"I have a feeling you'll wear out that privilege in no time."

* * *

Hermione passes a butterbeer over to me when she returns to the table, where I'm looking over the list of titles we copied from Tomes and Scrolls.

"Thanks for the drink," I say. It tastes like liquid butterscotch candy. A bit too sweet for me, but it's okay in small doses.

"Do you think we got enough?" Hermione asks for the third time, biting her lip in worry as she reads the list upside down.

"I'm sure three dozen titles is more than enough," I repeat. "You're really cute when you bite your lip like that, by the way."

"William! Stop making me blush in public!" she whispers heatedly despite the privacy charm.

"Sorry, I figured that was the best way to get you to stop asking that question," I say with a grin before taking another small sip. When she only glares in response, I change the subject. "So, is there anything else you can think of that we haven't done for Harry's training, but should before the First Task?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. It would have to be a spell of some sort, because there isn't enough time to learn a skill like certain types of advanced transfiguration. Without knowing what the actual Task is, we're just going to have to hope he's prepared. At least there are lots of possibilities with the Summoning Charm, that was really brilliant to have him test it long-range."

Well, I had to make sure he can get his Firebolt. "Speaking of advanced transfiguration, he should try to become an animagus."

"_What_?" Hermione chokes on her butterbeer. "William that's extremely advanced magic! He can't do it in three days!"

"Not for the First Task, of course," I say, waving away her objection. "But you won't know unless we try. Harry's father and godfather both became animagi while they were at Hogwarts. If they figured it out, I don't see why you guys can't do the same."

Harry breaks his self-imposed silence under the cloak. "That's brilliant! I can't believe I never thought of that before!"

"You should ask Professor McGonagall about it, Hermione," I say. "Maybe she'll help you guys along. I'm sure Sirius will as well."

"Why do you keep saying 'you guys?'" she asks. "Aren't you going to do it, too?"

I shake my head. "I could try, but somehow I don't think it will work for me."

She frowns at me. "Why not?"

"You know how I can't seem to use a wand. I don't think I'm a normal wizard." Understatement of the fictional century.

"William, the animagus transformation is wandless, so maybe you'll be able to do it quicker than us!"

I smile gratefully, even though I don't hold out much hope at all. "Well either way I'll be there along with you guys."

A loud _thunk_ startles me.

"Nice cloak, Potter," Crouch/Moody grumbles as he stands in front of our table. Hagrid looms large behind him, but he's outside the _muffliato_ so we can't hear him. "And that's a useful privacy charm, Granger, one of yours?"

"Actually, that would be Mr. Lerner's," Hermione says with a smile.

I struggle not to shudder as the magical eye settles on me.

Harry saves me by jumping in then. "Can your eye...I mean, can you—?"

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody/Crouch says. Then he reaches above his head and holds his hand flat, tilted at an angle. "And I can see the bubble created by charms like this one, too, though I can't hear anything from the outside."

Hagrid then bends down so most of his massive head is under Moody's hand. He whispers something quietly, which, for Hagrid, is to say that Hermione and I heard every word. "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak." Then he stands and appears to say something else before he and Crouch/Moody walk away.

"Well that was discreet," I joke, once the guy that gives me the creeps has entirely left the building.

"I don't know if you should go, Harry," Hermione says, biting her bottom lip, "it might make you late for Sirius."

I disagree. "I think you can make it, Harry. But I'll tell you what, I'll pop down there at one and keep him company a bit if you're not back. I'd like to talk to Sirius myself."

Hermione frowns at me. "I don't think that's a good idea, William. Harry might have mentioned your name to Sirius, but he doesn't know what you look like."

"He knows your face, though," I point out, "so why don't you come down, too?"

Hermione bites her lip, looking back and forth between me and where Harry's sitting. "Okay."

I clap my hands together, startling her. "Excellent! See, Harry? Now you have to hurry back to chaperone our late night rendezvous. You never know what's going to happen with those scoundrels Hermione hangs out with. Best have your Stinging Hex handy."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "I'll have my own Stinging Hexes handy, William, and they won't be aimed at your hands."

* * *

"Hey, Hermione," I greet her quietly as she makes her way to the fire.

She yawns, "Hello, William...sorry," she says when her yawn goes contagious.

"S'alright, this is too late for me."

"Me, too."

We sit in silence for a few moments, staring at the fire. It's hypnotic. "Even though I'm supposed to be on the lookout for other students, I'm going to have to talk to you to stay awake."

Her head jerks up when I start speaking, as if she had dozed off as well. "Me, too."

"Um," I say, searching for a topic. "Maybe you should get those Stinging Hexes out after all."

She chuckles. "That would work, but I hope talking to me is a more enjoyable way to stay awake."

"It is," I say. Hermione seems to have gone to sleep and set some kind of alarm, because her hair looks especially fuzzy and tangled, as if she'd tossed and turned for the past few hours. It makes me smile, and she sees it.

"Don't say a word about my hair."

My smile widens. "I think it's cute."

Her face drops into a mock glare. "I said not a word, and don't start with that again."

My smile fades and I look toward the fire. "I know I joke about being inappropriate when Harry's not around, but you know I would never hurt you like that, don't you?" Damn late night, always makes me mushy.

I can feel her looking at me, but I'm too embarrassed by my sentimental admission to look back. "I know," she says after a moment.

"I have to admit I'm feeling a bit on the mushy side tonight, but if you tell me to stop teasing you about something, I will."

"I could really take advantage of such promises, you know." Her voice holds a note of surprise, and I get the feeling she's raising an eyebrow at me.

"You could. I just...the thought of me hurting you in any way just makes me sick to my stomach right now."

"So you hurting me will become acceptable once you're well-rested?" She asks, amusement plain in her voice. I turn to grimace at that, upon which her face softens into a smile. "So is this mushy, sweet William the real you, or is it the mysterious prankster we all know and love?"

Her asking about the real me hits me in a way I don't expect. My grimace fades and I close my eyes and let my head fall into my hands. I feel some tears coming but I can do nothing to stop them.

"William, are you okay?"

I hate when people ask me that when I'm not okay. It's like a trigger phrase for all my emotions to spill out. "No. I'm not."

"Please, tell me what's wrong," she pleads, "I want to help you."

"You can't...it's...it's my secrets. They're just too much! I...I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. I know you already think it's suspicious, but I swear I wouldn't keep them if I had a choice. So much could go wrong...and if—when I tell you, you're going to hate me."

"William," she says, tears staining her cheeks. "If it's too much then you have to share it. Please, share the burden, if not with me than with somebody else. Harry, Daphne, Dumbledore, Hagrid...somebody! Please."

My hands are shaking as I rub the sides of my head thinking. I could just share a little. Just a little, but her lie detector is too damn good to sneak anything past her. "I'm...ugh, this is going to sound insane. I literally found myself on Platform Nine and Three Quarters a few months ago. I...woke up with a wand that I'd never seen before and the backpack I was wearing when I...left, I guess. You were right to be suspicious that first time we practiced Charms. I'd never cast a spell in my life except when I was messing around in the Room of Requirement, trying to figure out how I ended up here." All true.

I look up after a few moments of silence to see her gaping. Obviously this is not what she expected. "William, that...that doesn't make sense!" When I don't answer, she continues. "How could you...if you somehow just showed up here – then how do you know the things you do?"

"I woke up with that knowledge in my head," I say. Still a true statement, if not a complete one. "I woke up knowing who most of you are and what you can do, but I have no idea why I'm here. I...I was telling the truth about my parents being Muggles, because as far as I knew before I got here, there was no such thing as magic." I cringe a bit as I realize how awkward that sounds, but luckily she interprets it in a way that is beneficial to me.

"Well the wizarding world is hidden, which I'm sure you know now. Wouldn't it make sense that it was hidden before you woke up?"

"I...suppose." I have to let that slide...there's no way I can tell her why I knew for certain the wizarding world didn't exist. "I guess talking about how magic breaks just about all laws of physics doesn't really mean much when I can do it myself, here. That's also the reason my Hogwarts letter was unopened, you know. When you asked me what year I was in, I had no idea until you looked."

She cocks her head back at that. "But aren't you the same age as us?"

My head drops into my hands once again. "No...I'm supposed to be...a bit older, even though I don't feel like it here. That's why the clothes in my backpack are too large – I actually shrunk a couple inches."

"You mean to tell me you're supposed to be taller than you already are?"

She is trying to get me to smile but I feel too wretched to do so. "Don't you see, Hermione? I'm too...I might look and feel like a fifteen-year-old again but..."

She blanches. "You're not like...in your forties or something?"

I choke out a laugh. "No, not even close. I only lost a couple years. But still...I don't belong here, in this place, at this age."

"You know, when I think back it sort of makes sense why you seemed more mature at first, and now you're much more playful. I wonder if whatever magic brought you here actually made you fifteen again both physically and psychologically, even if you remember more years than that. Maybe the psychological part was a little slower on the uptake."

I shake my head. Leave it to Hermione to try and come up with a logical explanation for something that clearly has none. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't know..."

She sighs. "I'm not going to lie and say it's not a little odd, knowing that you're not fifteen, but it just doesn't seem like that big of a deal."

My head drops into my hands again and I shake it. "You won't say that when you hear the full story," I say, thinking about what will happen during the Third Task if I let things play out. "But I can't tell you that part, yet. It's...it's the worst part...but I can't talk about it. Not yet..."

Hermione closes her eyes and takes deep breaths. "So you'll...tell me, eventually?"

"If I can," I say quietly. "If I can. I'll tell you everything, but I can't right now."

"Okay." She is silent for a minute. "William, if you came from...somewhere else...that's why you don't have any money or anything." I nod and her eyes fill with tears, then her eyes widen and she chokes out a sob. "You were telling the truth before...you don't...you didn't have anybody at all."

I shake my head sadly. "Only you and Harry."

"Oh, William," she says, throwing herself onto me and wrapping her arms around me. "How are you even functioning? I would just curl up and cry! And I pushed you away almost immediately when you didn't have anybody else..." she sobs again. "I'm so sorry! How could you forgive me for that?"

"I know what you're up against, you, Harry, and anybody else who helps him. I couldn't live with myself if I abandoned you guys. Besides, I'm no worse off than Harry was when he arrived. Better off, really, considering what he went through at his relatives. He's a stronger man than I am."

"You're both strong."

I shake my head. "I had a good childhood, Hermione. Harry...he...part of the knowledge I inherited is what happened to him. You might understand that he doesn't like his relatives, but...well, it's his story to tell if he wants. Suffice it to say you're the only reason he knows what love is at all."

Hermione laughs sadly. "No, you're the one who told him, if I recall correctly."

"But you showed him."

She smiles. "So we're both responsible, then." She cocks her head at me. "You've been...pushing us together, me and Harry, haven't you?"

I look away shamefully. "I'm sorry. He needs someone like you, even if he doesn't realize how perfect you are. And he complements you perfectly. His power and your wisdom. His instinct and your intellect. His ferocity and your gentleness. And you're both unfathomably brave, kind, generous, strong of will, strong of heart..." I chuckle ruefully. "I have to admit that I'm jealous of him for that."

"You're all those things, too, you know."

"I'm not, as you'll find out." I let my reminder hang in the air for a moment. "But it doesn't matter either way, because I don't belong here. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not tempted, but...Hermione, I've already had a first love. And I've...I'm not a...well, I loved her in every sense of the word, and I know the pain when that love is gone. I know you're mature in many ways, but...I know, that might not be reason enough to push you away, but it _is_ enough that I don't know if I'm going to just up and disappear tomorrow. And after the way I've deceived you – and the way I still have to keep things from you – I can't...I just can't do that to you."

"You mean you..." She pales as she realizes what I'm saying, then she hugs her arms around herself. "So when you hug and kiss me..."

"...it feels incredibly good and incredibly painful, and I don't want to stop," I finish. "I'm sorry. I can...I won't do it anymore if you don't want."

Her tears are flowing freely now. "It's going to be the same for me now, you know? Every time, I'm going to be reminded of what might have been, if circumstances were different. But I don't want you to stop either."

I sigh heavily and let my head drop. After a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair I look back up at her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you that. I don't...I didn't want to make you feel like I do."

"I'm not sorry for meeting you, William, even if this is the price."

I chuckle grimly. "Just a couple of masochists, aren't we? You realize it would hurt less in the long run if we stopped being friends right now."

She lays her head on my chest, bushy hair splayed all over, and squeezes harder. "I don't care."

I squeeze back. "Me neither."

We hold each other for several minutes, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the cavernous Gryffindor common room. "Harry should be back soon," she says into the silence, but she's not letting go.

I glance up at the clock, wiping my face in the process. "Hopefully. It's almost time."

"Are you...going to tell him everything you told me?"

I ponder that for a moment, but I don't see why not...except for the fact that I have to remember exactly what secrets I gave away. "Yeah. Except maybe the part about how I care for you a bit more than I should, and about me playing matchmaker. He might hex me."

"I doubt he would."

I shake my head. "I don't want him to think I'm trying to manipulate him. He has enough of that as it is, and I'm sure it'll only get worse. I rationalize it to myself as just a friend trying to set up another friend, but I still feel bad about it. I hope I haven't ruined anything between you."

She regards me silently for several moments. "You haven't. I admit I was...starting to think of you as more than a best friend, but I think maybe that was because I could somehow tell you felt the same way about me. I don't think Harry sees me that way." She blushes when she admits that, and I'm sure I am just as red.

"Maybe not yet, but there's no way he can miss how perfect you are for—"

"I haven't," Harry's voice says from behind us, startling both of us.

"Harry!" Hermione squeaks, jumping away from me. "When did you—" she trails off, and I turn to see tears trailing down his cheeks as well.

"Long enough." He walks around to the chair Hermione had vacated and flops bonelessly down into it. "Too long. You're both forgetting two things: the prophecy and..." He taps his scar.

The blood instantly drains from Hermione's face. "No..."

He takes a deep breath. "I was...I was so happy you seemed to get along so well with William, because it meant you could be happy no matter what...no matter what happens to me." His voice cracks a couple times when he speaks, making his confession even more painful.

"Harry..."

"I've never forgotten the first time you hugged me, Hermione. I never will. That was the first hug I ever remember getting. I didn't know what it was until William told me, but I know now that I've loved you in some way since that moment. Even if I didn't know the details behind why Voldemort was trying to kill me, I knew enough to know that you wouldn't have a chance at happiness with me with all this hanging over my head." Harry chuckles grimly. "I was desperate enough to make you happy that I even tried to get you to like Ron." Then his face falls and his eyes go glossy with more tears. "I could have sworn that William was the one," he says quietly.

Hermione buries her face in the couch and cries harder than ever.

Harry and I sit on either side of her saying nothing, just rubbing her back and her arms, running hands through her hair.

Just then the fire flares green, and a face momentarily appears then immediately disappears.

"Padfoot?" Harry croaks out.

"Harry? Are you sure it's safe?" Sirius asks, tentatively appearing once more. "What's wrong? _What happened_?" His voice gets more concerned as he goes on.

"This is..." Harry clears his throat when his voice cracks again. "This is William Lerner, I told you about him. And of course you remember Hermione."

Hermione sits up, face splotchy. "Hello again, Padfoot."

Sirius takes in our condition and the apparent lack of any kind of emergency. He repeats his question in a softer voice. "What's happened, Harry?"

Harry just shakes his head.

"Have you...have you ever heard of Shakespearean tragedy, Padfoot?" Hermione asks, voice thick with emotion. "Well, we're living in one right now."

* * *

A/N:

Oh no, not a love triangle! The plot was still a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing by this point, so I'm being honest when I say I hadn't planned this at all. But this is how it fell out, and I ran with it. Don't kill me.

If you need further proof that I didn't plan this, I meant to get to the dragon training in this chapter (I even had to change the title!), but I accidentally spilled another secret to Hermione and, inadvertently, Harry. The latter also ended up spilling his own secrets.

Also, it might seem a bit odd, but I'm intentionally being vague about how old 'I' am. Although this is kind of a self-insert, it's first and foremost a first-person PoV story, so by being vague I hope the reader can insert himself into William's role. If you must have a number I picture William as originally being eighteen or nineteen. It's not terribly important to the story, but since I went to college at eighteen I figure that's old enough to have loved and lost and gained the maturity to handle some big, scary responsibilities if necessary. Frankly if I had fallen into the Harry Potter universe as a fifteen-year-old I probably _would_ have curled up and cried.

Lastly, I am not even close to being a classic literature buff of any sort, so I don't really know if Hermione calling this a Shakespearean tragedy is at all appropriate. But it seemed to flow well with the Shakespeare-like monologue I broke into earlier in the chapter on a whim. I figure it's close enough for me, but I apologize to any literature majors out there.

R & R, C & C

* * *

OMAKE #2

_In case you couldn't tell from William's behavior at the beginning of the chapter I'd been feeling a bit wacky lately, so I think I originally overdid it with the playful banter. But in case you can't get enough of it, here's the original version of the beginning of the scene in the Three Broomsticks. I didn't want to get rid of it entirely because I thought the double entendre bit at the end was hilarious. It's quite a bit lighthearted in contrast with the heavily emotional ending of this chapter, but we'll bounce back soon enough._

"Do you think we got enough?" Hermione asks for the third time, biting her lip in worry.

"I'm sure three dozen titles is more than enough," I repeat. "You're really cute when you bite your lip like that, by the way."

"William! Stop making me blush in public!" she whispers heatedly despite the privacy charm.

"Well stop being cute!"

"I don't know what you find cute!"

"Mm, that's a tough one," I say, rubbing my chin. "Wow, that's a really tough one. Pretty much all of your facial expressions are some kind of cute."

"William..." she whines.

"Ah ha!" I say, snapping my fingers. "I've got it. You're going to have to pick your nose."

She gasps with indignation. "I am not going to pick my nose!"

"Well it's either that or I control myself," I point out, "and honestly, which one do you think has a better chance of succeeding?"

"He has a point," Harry offers from under his cloak.

"Maybe you do, but it's too bad," Hermione says, folding her arms. "You're just going to have to control yourself."

"Okay, but making your robes hug your figure like that is just going to make it harder."

"Your suggestive double entendre cheers my very soul, brother," Harry says.

Hermione's mouth drops open when she realizes what Harry means. "William!"


	11. Chapter 11: How to Survive Your Dragon

Disclaimer: I confessed my undying love to JK Rowling three times but she still hasn't awarded me ownership of the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Eleven: How to Survive Your Dragon**

"William, wake up," I hear Hermione say through my grogginess.

"Mm, not yet," I say, nuzzling my fluffy and pleasantly fragrant pillow and shutting my eyes harder.

"Ow, ow, not so rough!" she pleads. "That's my hair!"

That snaps my eyes open. I sit up and look around in confusion. "Wha—?"

"We, er, fell asleep in the common room," Harry says.

Sure enough, it seems we were leaning back on deep couch by the fire. My neck is killing me.

"Correction, you guys fell asleep," Hermione says, "and now I've got drool in my hair and on my shoulder."

"Ah, sorry 'bout that, Hermione," I say, stifling a yawn. "Why didn't you give me a shove? Aren't you going to be exhausted?"

She blushes a bit. "Well I didn't mind, and I dozed off several times, too. You fell asleep against my head and Harry did against my shoulder on his side."

"Oops. Sorry I hogged her hair, Harry. I thought it was a bit strange that my pillow smelled so good."

"I don't think he minds too much," Hermione says, glancing at Harry who is blushing furiously. "His head was resting on my left breast up until a minute ago."

I bark out a laugh at that. "Well-played, Harry, well-played." I rub and stretch my neck as thoroughly as possible to get the stiffness out, but the soreness remains.

"You should have put your hand on the right one, she would have let you," Harry says with a smirk.

I sigh exaggeratedly. "Good call, but it's too late now."

"Hmm," Hermione says, tapping her lips. "Maybe not." Her hand shoots out and clamps onto my chest. Harry starts laughing loudly, and once I recover from the moment of shock, I join him followed by Hermione.

"You know what comes next, William," she says with a grin. "It's only fair to complete the cycle."

I laugh again at that. "Alright, get over here, Harry," I say, making a kneading motion with my hands. "Left or right?"

After sharing a few more laughs, we grin at each other, and then our grins fade to grateful smiles. The unspoken message is clear: we needed that healing, and now we have a job to do.

We break to take showers and then head to the Room of Requirement to discuss that job before breakfast. The shower does wonders for my sore neck, so I indulge in a much longer-than-normal soak. It also does wonders for my thoughts, and I plan out how to tell them my strategy now that they finally know what the First Task is. Mostly, anyway, since they don't know about the egg. By the time I finally get dressed and head down, I find Harry and Hermione both in the common room waiting for me.

Once we exit the portrait, we assume our normal walking positions: Harry on the left holding Hermione's left hand and me on the right clasping her right arm. It's a little bizarre how it feels odd when we're _not_ walking like that. We walk in companionable silence the entire way, stopping only to catch the early morning view from the seventh floor corridor.

"What was Sirius going to say before Ron came down and made him leave?" Hermione asks rhetorically, once she's prepared and opened the Room. It's her usual miniature library with a cozy sitting area.

I'm surprised Hermione brought up last night so quickly, and Harry's face falls. As if the dirty laundry we aired last night wasn't bad enough, Ron's behavior is clearly weighing on him as well. "Remember the Void, if you need it," I suggest softly. Harry nods and closes his eyes. Hermione also picks up on his somber mood so we both follow suit.

"He specifically said 'a simple spell,' but that doesn't narrow it down much at all," Harry points out after some minutes.

"Yeah, simple is relative, anyway," Hermione points out. "There are a lot of spells that are simple for Dumbledore, but not many that are simple for a First Year."

"Sirius probably took that into consideration, Hermione," Harry says.

She bites her lip and turns to me. "What do you think, William?" Then her gaze intensifies. "I can see you know something."

I can feel my face heat in embarrassment, so it's no use trying to hide, now. "A dragon's scaly hide is practically impervious to spells from a single caster..." I say, trying to allow Hermione to fill in the blanks.

She either doesn't pick up on that or ignores it. "Yes, and? Come on, don't leave us hanging!"

"...and some parts of the dragon aren't covered by it," I finish.

Her eyes widen. "Of course! Its eyes are the weak point. You could probably damage the wings with an overpowered Cutter, but that would only make it angry. So what could he use?"

"Why ask me?" I try to act innocently.

"Because you know," Hermione says as if it's obvious. "I told you I can see right through you now." I guess it is obvious to her.

I sigh. "I suppose you can. There's the Conjunctivitis Curse, for one."

"I haven't heard of that..."

"I'm not surprised, because if you had I'm sure you would have mentioned it by now," I say with what I hope is a reassuring smile. "But that will still make it angry. Here's what I think, Harry: Summon your Firebolt, transfigure some decoys, hit it with some pink eye so it has trouble figuring out which is which, and go get...past them or whatever Charlie said." I almost said the egg. I quickly continue to hopefully cover it up. "You might want to practice making a powerful Shield charm just in case it gets a lucky shot with its breath, and the Flame-Freezing Charm or some cooling charm or water conjuration in case it gets past that. Maybe we can figure out what Charlie meant by Extinguishing Spells? I'm not sure if it would work, but you might also try an overpowered Banisher in case you can't get away when its tail is swinging toward you or something."

Hermione stares at me open-mouthed. "H-how did you come up with all that?"

I shrug and then grin. "Didn't we agree my middle-name is 'Awesome' last time we spoke?"

"The knowledge you inherited?" Hermione asks, ignoring my non-answer.

"That's a fair statement," I say.

Hermione raises an eyebrow at my choice of words but doesn't call me on it.

"I'm not sure about transfiguring decoys," Harry says. "There was a spell Ollivander used when he was testing my wand: _Avis_, which conjured some birds. Maybe I could use that?"

"Was there a wand motion?" Hermione asks. At Harry's response to the negative, she lifts her wand. "_Avis_." Two bright yellow canaries shoot out of her wand with a bang. "Good thinking, Harry! We'll practice that today." She giggles at the birds twittering madly while flying circles around her. "I think you actually have a good chance of coming out on top of this thing."

Harry looks shocked at first, then turns pensive. Apparently a solid plan of action is as comforting to him as it is to Hermione.

"You should warn Cedric," I say.

This startles her. "What?"

"He's right, Hermione," Harry says. "I know for sure that Maxime will tell Fleur and Karkaroff will tell Krum. It's not fair to Cedric."

"I know you're both right, I was just surprised is all," she says with a small frown. "That hadn't occurred to me yet."

"I know, but it was going to," I say with my best attempt at a enigmatic smile, "you know, I can see right through you now. In fact I can predict exactly what you're about to do. You're about to argue that I can not, and then you're going to glare at me."

Right on each cue, Hermione closes her mouth and then glares at me. I laugh quite heartily at the scene, and Harry joins in. "Wow, William, that was impressive!"

"Well, I admit it would be funnier among Muggles, without the whole Legilimency thing. Here it's not a terribly impressive trick."

"I'm sure it isn't there, either," Hermione sniffs.

"I dunno, at least it was nice and specific, and it actually came true. Maybe I missed out on my calling in Divination."

"So, Cedric?" Hermione says, once again neglecting to acknowledge my existence.

"Let's grab him at breakfast," Harry says. "That way he'll have almost as much time to figure it out as the rest of us."

I'm half-tempted to make a joke about using my newly discovered aptitude for Divination for just telling him exactly what Cedric's going to do. Though, honestly, how is Transfiguring a single rock into a dog supposed to distract a dragon long enough for him to grab the Golden Egg? Maybe he'll do something a little more believable.

* * *

After our morning run, I'm surprised to see Daphne sitting outside with two other people, who I immediately identify as her friends Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis. I veer in their direction and I'm a bit surprised when everybody follows me. Once I reach them, our two groups stare at each other in an uncomfortable silence. Except for Luna, of course, who hums happily and rocks back and forth on her heels.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione says, finally breaking the silence. "Let's go practice. Do you want to help, Neville? Luna?"

She grabs Harry's hand and leads him off, and Neville looks torn. "Go ahead, Neville," I say.

"You sure, mate?"

"I'm sure."

He still shuffles uncomfortably, looking askance at the three Slytherins. "Okay, if you say so." He shrugs and starts to walk away until he realizes Luna is still there.

"She's pretty, William," Luna says, looking at Daphne with her head tilted. "Do you like her?"

I grin at Daphne's slight blush. "Yes I do, Luna," I say proudly. Tracey's eyes bulge and Blaise's face darkens.

"That's good. I'm sure I'll like her, too, then. Goodbye, William." Luna skips away after Neville.

"What was that about, Lerner?" Blaise asks threateningly.

"Mr. Zabini, isn't it? Surely you've heard of Luna Lovegood. She says exactly what she means. I had a nice conversation with Daphne, and now I wish to be friends with her. There's nothing more to it."

"Why would she want to be friends with a mudblood?" Tracey blurts out. Daphne elbows her roughly and Tracey blushes with embarrassment. I maintain my smile.

"Ms. Davis, right? I rather hope she found our conversation as intriguing as I did. And no worries, I take no offense at being called a 'mudblood.' Where I come from blood purity matters little. That should please you of all Slytherins, Ms. Davis, should it not?"

Their eyes widen and I grin at the bulls-eye...Tracey Davis is indeed a half-blood. "You are well-informed," Blaise says tightly.

"Ms. Davis' blood status is of little importance to me," I say, waving the half-compliment away. "I'm more interested in stealing Daphne from you for awhile and having another enjoyable conversation, perhaps bouncing some ideas off of her."

"Are you sure you're in the right House?" Tracey asks. "You certainly speak like a Slytherin."

"I assure you it's all an act," I say with a grin. "Underneath this smooth facade it's all mindless bravery and optimism."

Tracey giggles at my description of Gryffindor, and even Daphne and Blaise crack a small smile.

"I suppose I shall deign to lower myself to speak with this lesser being for a time," Daphne says with a dramatic sigh.

"Your generosity knows no bounds, milady," I answer with an exaggerated bow, then I hold out a hand. "Will you sully your regal hand and allow me the privilege of helping you to your feet?"

Tracey giggles again and gives Daphne a nudge. She takes my hand and I pull her lightly to her feet.

"We'll be watching from here," Blaise says bluntly, earning an elbow from Tracey and an eye roll from Daphne.

"I'll be fine, Blaise," she says firmly.

"Why, milady, it wouldn't be proper for you to treat with one such as me unchaperoned. You never know what duplicity we lesser beings are capable of."

"Would you cut it out already, William?" Daphne snaps.

"My sincerest apologies, milady. My Unctuous Formality Potion will not wear off for another thirty minutes."

She pulls out her wand and levels it at my chest.

"Okay! Okay, you win." I say, holding my hands up and laughing.

Tracey starts laughing along with me. "I almost believed you about that potion. Come on, Blaise, even you have to admit that was funny. Go on, Daph, take a walk with him already."

"You seem to have made an impression on them," Daphne says once we've made it some distance away.

"Tracey, perhaps, though Blaise doesn't appear to be convinced."

She rolls her eyes. "He didn't stop us. That's as high a compliment as you could have hoped for today."

"Are you two..."

"Together? Please. Our families have long done business together so I've known him a long time, but he's far too stiff and brooding for me. I think my father probably threatened him a long time ago to keep me safe or something, but whenever something like this happens he acts like he made an Unbreakable Vow. It's like he's permanently under the effects of the Unctuous Formality Potion with me."

I chuckle at that. "You liked that, did you?"

"It _was_ funny."

"You didn't laugh."

"I almost did," she says with a small smile.

We walk silently for a few moments.

"So what ideas did you want to bounce off of me? Surely you didn't risk life and limb to exchange pleasantries."

"I am a Gryffindor," I say with a grin.

"True, but not a normal one," she says. "So what is it? The upcoming Task?"

"Nope, got that covered."

"Did you find out who put Potter's name in the Goblet?"

That brings me up short, and I cast the privacy charm. "You knew it wasn't him?"

"I assumed, and you just confirmed it."

"Clever. But no, I already know that, too." I almost stumble when I realize what I've just done. "That's a secret, though. You can't tell anyone, including Harry and Hermione."

"It was you, wasn't it?"

I lift my eyebrows at her. "I didn't expect anybody to come to that conclusion."

"I know you weren't touching your wand when you cast the privacy charm this time," Daphne says triumphantly. "And some of the other Slytherins were already considering that it might have been you even without that little wandless bombshell, after your little display."

I raise my eyebrow and grin. "Are any of them pretty girls?"

She scoffs. "Some."

"Hmm, I'll have to invite them on walks, dazzle them a bit with my air of mystery and natural charm. I hear the ladies fall for that sort of thing."

"Maybe foolish ones."

"You'll have to send me a list, then."

She makes her 'I am about to hex you' face at me.

I shake my head and chuckle. "Too bad. I considered giving it a go — the Goblet I mean, just to see if I could cross the age line. I had a couple ideas... But no, I'm not the one who did it. The one who did it wants Harry dead."

"That narrows it down," Daphne says sarcastically.

I look at her askance, and I realize I've already spilled that I know who it was, so she'll work it out even if I say nothing else. "It was an agent of the one who wants him dead the most."

Her eyes widen. "Who?"

That brings me up short until I realize she's asking who the agent is. "I can't say. It wasn't who you'd expect, though. You already know Snape and Durmstrang Headmaster Karkaroff are marked Death Eaters?"

She lets out a breath. "Why do you keep giving me dangerous information? Are you trying to get me killed?"

I frown. "No, that information isn't even that important. I believe it's a matter of public record, even though it might not be public knowledge. I'm just buttering you up with juicy gossip before I turn you on to the real challenge."

"I already told you I'm in, Lerner. There is no need to 'butter me up,' as you say."

I sigh. "There is, actually. I need you to like me, first, and trust me."

She scoffs. "Don't start with that nonsense again."

"It's not. It involves information that is not even mine to give. Information that I should not have. Information far more dangerous than the history of Tom Riddle, Jr."

"That doesn't seem possible."

I meet her challenging stare for several seconds. "What do you know about dark rituals that can grant a form of immortality to the caster?"

Daphne makes a choking sound in her throat. "Bloody hell, Lerner!"

"How else do you think he's still around after getting hit by the Killing Curse?"

"I know that!" she snaps. "You're implying you know what he did to do it!"

"I do. And I was hoping you did, too."

She shakes her head. "I don't know, and I don't want to know."

"Well, that makes my problem a little more difficult. I've already set Hermione on that particular task for now, so maybe we'll get lucky and you can skip that piece. But Hermione and I...obviously our resources are quite limited. I was hoping to enlist a wizarding family who might have hidden knowledge of such things." I don't mention that I've already recruited Sirius for this information-gathering task as well, since the Blacks seem to be more likely than most to keep such information within their family.

"And because I'm in Slytherin, you think my family might have it?" she asks, eyes flashing while she folds her arms.

I shrug. "It's a stereotype, true, but it can't hurt to try."

Her anger fades with a sigh. "I...I don't know if I can help with that," she says, shaking her head. "I'll have to think on it. That kind of information..."

"I know. You'd have to look yourself. That's not the kind of thing you owl home about, no matter what charms or ciphers you're using on the parchment. You aren't going to tell your father, are you?"

"Of course not," she says with a sharp glare, as if I gravely insulted her. "And you say this isn't the main problem? Sweet Circe, Lerner, what have you gotten me into? What have you gotten _yourself_ into? Who's the agent?"

"I'm keeping that to myself for now," I say with a grimace, still upset that I let that slip. "In fact, what you know stays between us."

"I _know_, Lerner," she growls.

"Well, I'm just making sure!" I hold my hands up in a placating gesture. "Anyway he is harmless until he springs the trap on Harry, and he's not ready for that yet."

"How could you possibly know that without being an accomplice?"

"Mr. Zabini said it: I am well-informed. And it's like I said, I can't have you knowing all my secrets, Daphne. You'd find me less debonair."

She makes her annoyed puff. "You're awful, do you know that? How can you talk about something so serious and then say stuff like that?"

"Sanity. Plus, I do enjoy the faces you make when I frustrate you," I say with a grin. "Yes, exactly like that 'I am about to hex you' face you're making now."

She quickly schools her face into a blank stare. "That's not for your enjoyment, you know."

"I know, but I will admire it anyway. Not as much as the genuine laugh you gave me last time, but those are far more difficult to come by."

She rolls her eyes. "I was laughing _at_ you that time for being so ridiculous."

"If that what it takes to get you to laugh like that again, you can make fun of me however you want."

She presses her lips together in the expression I recognize as her attempting to hide a smile. "You are the most bizarre friend I've ever had."

"So I'm your friend now?" I say excitedly.

She lets out a quick laugh. "You're like a puppy. I guess you may consider me a friend, as long as you don't tell anybody."

"Anybody can look out and see us walking, though," I point out.

"True, maybe I should Stun you before I leave," she says, looking pensive, "you know, just to keep up appearances."

I laugh. "That's an option. Of course I would have to insist on extracting something of equal value."

Daphne purses her lips as she looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "I'd be careful what you request of me."

"Yes, I suppose a hug and a kiss on the cheek would send the wrong message; I'd probably end up on the wrong end of more than just a Stunner from your friends if you slapped me afterward," I say, rubbing my chin. "Any chance I can bargain you down to an abrupt spin and angry stomp back to your friends?"

She growls a bit when I mention a kiss. "Slap or no slap?"

"Preferably no slap, as I have a rather low tolerance for pain. But I could be convinced for one good, solid hug."

She grunts a negative reply. "Your price is too high."

"Very well, let's back off a bit," I say. "How about you spin and stomp away and I get a genuine smile?"

"I could spin and stomp away anyway," she points out.

"Okay, how about this, I get down on my knees and beg for a smile, and you get to spin and stomp. You get to tell your classmates that I begged you to be my date for the Yule Ball and you said no."

She freezes a moment. "Yule Ball?"

"Oops, did I let that slip?" I grin. "It will be announced sometime after the First Task. I can't go, and this way I can use your heartbreaking refusal as my excuse."

Her eyes widen with understanding. "That's what the dress robes were for! How did you find out?"

My face hurts from doing it, but I grin again.

She scoffs. "Yeah, yeah, well-informed, I remember."

"Would you have gone with me if I really asked?"

She raises an eyebrow at me.

"As friends, of course," I add.

She maintains the look a moment longer, then looks like she's trying to hide a smile. "I couldn't say, since you aren't really asking."

My mouth drops open in shock. "Ms. Greengrass, are you being coy with me?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." She flashes a brilliant, genuine smile at that, and I can't help but return it.

I fall to my knees and clasp my hands together. "Daphne, had I known you were going to give me such a good one, I would have let you slap me. I'm afraid you got the raw end of the deal."

"You may make it up to me, then." Her face suddenly drops into a stormy mask, then she spins on her heels and stomps angrily back to Tracey and Blaise.

* * *

"Did you get it at the right angle?"

"I got it, I guess. Are you sure you want to keep that?"

"You didn't miss the beginning, did you?"

"No no, I got that, but the end—"

"Then it's perfect. So what can I do for you in exchange?"

"Well...with the First Task coming up..."

* * *

"Oh no, Harry!" Hermione cries as she sees the four dragons being shown off to the crowd.

They are far scarier in person than they are in the movies, let alone the books. I can feel the heat from their breath all the way up here in the stands. It's actually a somewhat pleasant warmth up here on this cold day.

"Do you know what kinds they are, William?" she asks.

"Mm, I can't remember all of them. The Welsh Green is obvious, I believe she's the tamest one. The rough one with all the extra handlers is the Hungarian Horntail. That will be the fiercest one. The other two I can't remember. Maybe a Swedish Short-Snout and a Chinese Fireball or something similar that. I'm sure they'll announce them."

Hermione cringes even though I'm fairly certain she doesn't know much about the dragons. "Which one do you think Harry will get?"

I snort. "Well, duh, he's Harry. You know he'll get the meanest damned dragon on the planet, but it won't matter because he'll kick its ass."

"You seem rather calm about this," she says, looking at me askance.

"Actually I'm terrified," I correct her calmly. "Otherwise I would have given you at least three embarrassing compliments by now."

"You know, that actually makes a perverse kind of sense," she says in surprise. "Oh I wish I could go speak to Harry one more time!"

"Between the two of us we could probably sneak you in there, but I think we did everything we could. You don't want to psych him out by showing him how worried you are, do you?" She sighs and shakes her head, and I pull her into my side and rub her arm comfortingly. "He'll pull through; he always does."

"I wish I had your confidence," she laments, "I'm going to tear my hair out here."

"Can I have a lock of it if you do?"

"William! I thought you were terrified!"

"I am, I was just trying to reassure you by acting normal."

Hermione, of course, is not reassured. She in fact tears her hair out no matter what contestant is competing. First, she screamed and buried her face in my shoulder when Cedric got burned by his Swedish Short-Snout. She even yelled out to warn Fleur to watch out for the stream of fire her Common Welsh Green let out when it snored. Then she cried for Krum's Chinese Fireball to stop thrashing and watch out for her eggs, and raged at the dragon handlers, saying that those had better not be real eggs. Then it was Harry's turn, and she got worse.

"Oh. Oh. I can't watch. Oh, Harry!"

"Hermione, they still haven't even announced his name yet."

"Shut up! Oh William, of course he got the worst one! What are we gonna do?"

"Nothing's changed. Did you watch the rest of the contestants? Fleur did something we didn't think of, but Harry's going to show up both Cedric and Krum."

"Oh, William! You saw what Krum's dragon did. What if the Horntail crushes her eggs? We have to warn him!"

I frown. I had forgotten about that. Maybe Harry was better off with just the Firebolt? "It's too late, now. Maybe Harry will decide he doesn't need the Conjunctivitis Curse. Actually, he's got a powerful Summoning Charm. I wonder if he could just Summon the golden egg?"

"I doubt it; I asked Professor Flitwick about that, back when we were learning it," she says. "He said objects can be charmed against that, and I imagine they would have thought of that."

"Yeah, probably. Anyway, thank you for not moaning my name this time."

She gasps and swats my shoulder as she blushes. "William! Be serious!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm trying to distract you and this is the best way I know how," I say just before thinking that's probably not true. "Do you want me to put you in a full body bind for this and hold you up so you can watch without tearing more of your hair out? I mean, you even cried for Fleur and you don't even like her."

She still grimaces with worry. "But what if Harry needs me?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't think he needs fistfuls of ripped out hair, no matter how good it smells. You can't get through the wards, Hermione. We'll go see him as soon as he's in the first aid tent, okay?"

"I know you're right, William, I just wish it would—"

"And now," Ludo Bagman's voice boomed over the crowd. "Your fourth and final Champion will face off against the dreaded Hungarian Horntail! Please welcome to the arena...HARRY POTTER!"

The roar of the crowd drowns out Hermione's terrified scream as Harry walks out, clearly stunned by his reception. He thrusts his wand in the air but his incantation is inaudible. Harry and the Horntail eye each other warily, and neither makes a move until Harry's Firebolt appears, at which time Harry hops on and starts weaving. Bagman gets the crowd roaring again at his excited commentary. I have a feeling Harry is trying to get the dragon to come after him and get away from the eggs, but when that doesn't seem to work, he holds his wand out and casts Avis several times in a row, producing three or four fairly large, crimson-colored birds on each try.

"Oh that's brilliant, Harry!" Hermione shouts. The crimson matches his Champion's outfit.

The birds harass the dragon, flying in swift circles around its head. It manages to fry two or three after shooting a number of fireballs wildly, but Harry replaces those with a dozen more. Finally becoming angry, the dragon rears up and flaps its wings, trying to blow the birds away with the swirling vortices of wind. It catches many of them, sending them spinning away, so the dragon takes the opportunity to fire a massive jet of flame at the annoyances. It doesn't notice until it's too late that Harry shoots toward the nest in a blur, and before the five minute mark, Harry lands in front of the first aid tent, holding up the golden egg in triumph to the wild roaring of the crowd.

Hermione doesn't even wait for me; she just takes off, using her small stature to slip through the crowd. I sigh and try to follow, but, being considerably larger, I have to work to avoid jostling most of the revelers in my way. On the edge of one row I find Ron, standing rooted in his spot, pale as a sheet, staring at the dragon.

I clap him on the shoulder and gesture for him to follow. Neville and Luna spot Hermione and then Ron and I leaving, so they join our entourage as we arrive at the tent. I hold up a hand to halt them. "Don't want to anger Pomfrey, do we?" At that I poke my hand in and loudly call out, "Harry? Hermione? Are you both decent?"

Ron's eyes bulge and Neville laughs nervously, while Luna just smiles dreamily.

"Get in here, William, you prat!" Hermione calls back.

"Just a second guys, I'll make sure they throw some clothes on. You know how Hermione gets." I duck through the tent flap without checking their reactions to that. Harry's sitting on the edge of the temporary hospital bed that was meant for his treatment, and Hermione is sitting next to him with her arms firmly wrapped around his midsection. "Good show, Harry! I was worried about the Conjunctivitis Curse after what Krum did, I'm glad you got by without it."

Harry smiles. "Oh, _that's_ what you said, Hermione. William, you missed a solid play-by-play of the last two hours, told in about thirty seconds. Even with the crying I think I actually caught most of it."

"Prat," Hermione says, without letting go to strike him.

"I picked up a trio of tag-alongs on my way down here, if you'd like to see them, Harry," I say, jerking my thumb toward the flap of the tent.

He shrugs. "Sure."

"Okay guys, we've all got clothes on again," I call out loudly. Hermione kicks at me, but I dance out of the way with a laugh.

Neville pops his head in tentatively, then visibly relaxes. "Harry! That was incredible!"

Luna slips in while Harry and Neville are talking and stands off to the side humming and rocking back and forth on her heels.

"I thought you said three, William," Hermione says questioningly.

As if on cue, Ron steps tentatively into the tent. Harry's smile evaporates and I give Hermione a wink.

"Hey Harry," he says, voice shaky.

"Ron," Harry says coolly.

"Whoever put your name in that goblet...I...I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you? Took you long enough." Harry watches Ron blush embarrassingly red and open his mouth to apologize. "It's okay. Forget it."

"No," Ron says, "I shouldn't've—"

"No, you shouldn't've. But you must know that we can't go back to the way it was. Too many things...too many things have changed." Harry squeezes Hermione.

"I know...I know I bollixed it up good, didn't I? Well...I know you guys run every morning, so I'd like to join you, maybe help you train up a bit? Although it's clear after that performance you obviously don't need my help."

We all stand in silence for a moment, except of course for Luna's humming. Ron and Neville shift uncomfortably, looking down, Hermione and I look back and forth between Harry and Ron, and Harry stares at the floor.

I clap my hands and make everybody jump. "All right, you three, hug it out! Go on!" I give Ron a nudge and Hermione pulls him into the hug. Luna beams at me, and an idea hits me. I step between Luna and Neville and throw an arm over each, which is quite awkward since Neville is just a couple inches shorter than I am and Luna is probably a foot shorter. Luna's eyes widen in surprise, and I give her a mischievous smile. "Okay, now quit hogging all the hugs!" I pull my two companions towards the three others and Hermione pretends to scream before I squish Neville and Luna together and press them up against the other three, nearly knocking everybody back onto the bed.

Harry and Hermione are laughing while Ron and Neville look decidedly uncomfortable. Luna stiffens at first, but then closes her eyes and melts against Neville and Harry.

"Uh, this is...uh..." Ron stammers.

"Sorry, Ron," I say. "Next time I'll try to swipe a couple more girls, even out our numbers. I figured Harry should get to be the one squished between our only two, seeing as he's the one who faced a dragon today."

"Oh...makes sense..." Ron says.

"Mm, your hair smells good, Luna," I say.

"Thank you, William," she says, voice muffled by the tangle of bodies.

"Oh no, Luna, run away," Hermione warns theatrically. "Get away from him while you can!"

Harry and Hermione start shaking the entire group with laughter while Neville and Ron look confused.

"Mr. Potter? What are you still doing here?" Madam Pomfrey says, coming in from another part of the tent. "Go out and get your score, already!"

We peel off one-by-one. Hermione finally lets go of Harry and hops up, pulling him to his feet. He grabs the egg and tucks his Firebolt under his arm. "The other Champions had people with them, so I'm going, too," Hermione says. "What about you guys?"

"N-no thanks," Neville says, backing away slowly.

"I'll stay with Neville," Luna says in a sing-song voice. I think to myself that she probably wouldn't be phased at all by the cheering crowds.

Ron looks torn. Hermione sees it, too and nudges Harry. "Coming, Ron?" Harry asks.

A wide, grateful smile spreads across his face. "Yeah!"

"See you guys after," I say, giving them a wave.

"Uh uh, William Albert Lerner, you get over here right now!" Hermione says, stomping over to me and grabbing my arm with hers. She marches me over to Harry, snakes her other arm into his, and charges toward the exit. "Let's go, Ronald!"

"Yes, ma'am," Ron says smartly.

As we exit the tent, the roar of the crowd staggers Hermione, but Harry takes over and pulls her forward. "So, Albert, huh?" I say, trying to take her mind off the crowd.

It seems to work momentarily. "Not odd enough?"

"Not odd enough," I say. "Plus I thought we settled on Awesome."

She snorts. "No, I think only you did that."

Ron walks on his other side, quickly describing the scoring system and explaining that Cedric got a 38, Fleur got a 39, and Krum got a 40.

Madame Maxime raises her wand, and a silver ribbon shoots out and forms a nine. Ron gives out a whoop, saying that she gave Fleur the same score. Crouch then forms a ten, causing Ron to jump up and down in excitement. Dumbledore and Bagman both follow with the same score, causing the crowd to scream with excitement once again. Hermione is crying openly and screaming along with the crowd as each score is given. Harry tears up a little when Dumbledore gives him a ten and a standing ovation.

I'm interested to see what Karkaroff does, if he'd go that far to make sure Krum is tied for the lead again. He does. When his score of one goes up, the crowd roars in indignation. Ron lets out a string of expletives, and Hermione doesn't bother scolding him because her mouth is wide open in shock. Harry looks over at me and I give him a shrug and jerk my head back toward the tent. He nods and we swing around, still arm-in-arm, and walk away.

* * *

A/N:

I really did name the dragons from memory. The only thing I missed was the 'Common' in 'Common Welsh Green.'

Fleur's score is not revealed in canon, but since Cedric got a 38 and Krum was in the lead with a 40, I put her in the middle. Based on the description, Fleur would have gotten past it unscathed if it weren't for the mistake of getting too close to its nostril after she put it to sleep. Cedric, on the other hand, failed to distract it long enough, so I assume that she would have scored slightly better. It doesn't matter at all in the long run, of course, but I figured I'd throw that in for completeness.

R & R, C & C


	12. Chapter 12: Cracking the Golden Egg

Disclaimer: No one will ever get the Golden Harry Potter Universe Egg from JK Rowling because she is immune to all forms of magic and deception.

I apologize in advance for the epic omake at the end of this chapter.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Twelve: Cracking the Golden Egg**

The first snow of the year covered the Hogwarts grounds in a thick layer of powder, frosting the Castle and the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Long icicles hung from the many eaves and doorways, effectively imprisoning our group of friends inside the castle during our normal morning run.

"We could trudge through it," Neville suggests. He seems to have benefited from our exercise routine more than anyone else, and as one of the three with long legs, he'd have an easier time of it than our three shorter companions.

Hermione makes a face at that. "We could jog around the castle. Running stairs is good for different muscles than running on mostly flat surfaces."

"What she means is that it's good for your butt," I say. "Or bum, as you guys say."

"But Hermione already has a nice bum," Luna says, tilting her head and looking directly at it.

"Hey, not fair!" I say laughing. "That's what I was going to say!"

"Yes, I thought that's where you were going with that," she says with a smile. "I figured I'd save you a smack on the arm."

"You're so thoughtful, Luna." I toss an arm around her and squish her into my side.

She hums contentedly. "I like hugs."

"Me too," I say with a big smile.

"Are you sure you two aren't related?" Hermione asks, then starts laughing with Harry.

"We do look alike, don't we?" I ask, bending sideways to lay my head on hers.

"No, William, we don't look alike at all," Luna says matter-of-factly.

I push out a small stream of magic, and my hair lengthens and becomes a light, scraggly blonde as much like Luna's as I can make it. "How about now?"

Luna laughs then – a high, tinkling laughter that I just realize I'd never heard before.

That shocks most everybody else as much as my hair, and we all look at each other over Luna's head and smile.

"Still doesn't help, William," Harry says with a smirk. "Luna's much prettier than you, I'm sorry to say."

Luna blushes at the compliment.

"I think William's rubbing off on you, Harry," Hermione says, giving Luna a knowing smile. "And you do look completely ridiculous, William."

"Nonsense! Hey, watch this, who am I?" I put on my best imperious face and turn to Luna. "'Tut tut, child, you must practice sneering at your own reflection for at least four hours a day.'"

Hermione laughs. "Your accent is atrocious as ever," she says, shaking her head.

"'I am a far higher form of life compared to everyone else, therefore I speak perfectly. It is everyone else who has atrocious accents. Come, child, we must tend to our hair. There mustn't be a single strand out of place.'"

Luna suddenly marches imperiously next to me. "'Yes, father, let us fix our hair and sneer at lesser mortals.'"

"You guys aren't really going to go around like that?" Hermione asks.

"'Did you hear something, child? My ears do not always catch the words of beings that do not have such flawless hair as I do."

"'I am sure it was nothing, father," Luna deadpans. "I have so much money I can hear nothing over the clinks of so many galleons in my money pouch.'"

"'Indeed? Clearly, we must remedy that. Come, child, let us go bribe some people.'"

"Do you think we should stop them?" Hermione asks between gritted teeth. I'm pretty sure I can feel her wand already pointed at me for that hair comment.

"Nah, I think we should go find Draco," Harry says with a grin.

Unfortunately, Hermione hits me with a _finite _before we get too far, and we end up just hanging out in the seventh floor corridor, often looking out the window together to watch the sun rise higher among the clouds and try to melt away the freshly fallen snow.

Ron keeps glancing at the corner entrance to the Room of Requirement, and Hermione gives me a nudge and raises a questioning eyebrow. I nod, and Harry does the same.

"Neville, Luna," Hermione says. "We have something to show you."

She takes her position as the official Room Creator, and before long we are in the combination small library, slightly larger sitting room, and practice area.

Wide-eyed, Luna immediately peruses the books. "I recognize several of these as exclusives from the Ravenclaw library!"

"_Ravenclaw has exclusive items in its library_?" Hermione asks, her shriek dripping with jealousy.

"I was wondering where you guys always went off to," Neville says as he flops onto one of the big comfy chairs and looks around.

"I almost forgot how impressive this is," Ron says, glancing around. I had forgotten he hasn't been in here since before the Goblet of Fire spit out Harry's name.

"Since we're all here, we might as well talk about what we think Harry should do to prepare for the Second Task," Hermione says, taking a seat in her usual spot in the center of the couch.

"Isn't that against the rules?" Neville asks nervously.

"For a normal Champion, maybe, not one who has been forced into it," Hermione says, slightly embarrassed herself. Normally she would be the one harping on about the rules, but I'm glad her and I set that straight right away. "We're not looking for Harry to play fair; we want him to _survive_."

Luna wanders over and sits on the armrest of the couch next to me, Harry takes his usual chair, and Ron sits on the other side of Hermione.

"But we don't know what the Second Task is," Harry argues.

"We have a clue," Ron says.

"Maybe its something where you need a pair of those earmuffs we used in Herbology when we potted those mandrakes," Neville offers.

"It could be," Hermione says, then fixes her eyes on me.

"What?" I ask, cocking my head back in an attempt to seem innocent.

She presses on. "What does the clue mean?"

At this point I know she's got me again, but I decide it's best to continue playing dumb since it's not just the three of us. "Why ask me?"

"Because you know," she says firmly.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Ron asks, furrowing his brows.

"I can tell when William is hiding something."

"The bulges around his robe pockets usually gives it away," Luna supplies.

"Luna! I am a gentleman, thank you very much," I say with a gasp. "Of course I try my best to rearrange my hidden items so no bulge is noticeable."

"You are such a pervert, William," Hermione says.

"I'm talking about my Christmas presents, Hermione," I say innocently. "I always have at least one with me so I can work on it if I get a spare moment."

"Of course you are, William," she says with a smirk. "So, the clue?"

"Hermione, you heard that thing," Ron says, "how could he possibly—?"

"Hush, Ronald. William?"

I look around at the new faces, and they're just looking back and forth between Hermione and me. When I glance at Harry and see no help is forthcoming, I sigh. "It's Mermish. Outside of water it's a high-pitched screech, but underwater it will be English."

"H-how?" Luna asks, eyes wide. Neville and Ron look flabbergasted, too.

"William is something of a genius," Hermione says with a smile. "It was him who came up with most of Harry's strategy for dealing with the dragon."

"That's not true, Harry came up with the bird conjuration idea, and he very wisely didn't use my Conjunctivitis idea."

"No wonder you love each other," Luna says melodically.

"_What_?" Ron chokes.

Hermione blushes, and my face goes red as well.

"It's quite obvious Ronald, just like Harry and Hermione love each other too," Luna continues happily.

That turns Harry pink as well, and leaves both Hermione and I sputtering to come up with an explanation. Note to self: Luna is more perceptive than she appears.

"Uh...but...you just said..." Ron stammers. Neville appears to be looking for an escape route.

"Yes, it is quite curious, isn't it? Harry and William appear to be quite good friends despite the fact that they both love Hermione. And it appears they are both aware of this fact."

"Yes, thank you, Luna," Hermione says, recovering first though her face is still blazing red. "It's complicated. Anyway, Harry, when do you want to try listening to the clue? It sounds like the next task might be in the Black Lake; _Hogwarts: A History_ says that there are merpeople there."

"Why don't I do it now?" Harry says, standing up quickly, happy to have a distraction from the awkwardness.

* * *

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching ponder this;_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour, the prospect's black,_

_Too late it's gone, it won't come back._

Luna's eyes close and her face, framed within a vast flare of blonde hair, becomes even more serene than normal as she listens to the Mermish song. It is a beautiful sight, but quite disconcerting, really. I look to Hermione, whose bushy brown tangles are spread out more unevenly, and her eyes are open but unfocused. I can almost see her thoughts churning behind them. I had entirely forgotten the extra verses that aren't in the movie. The last verse makes it a lot more obvious why Harry stayed behind. I guess I can try to convince him that Gabrielle will be fine – that they wouldn't let any of the hostages actually die, but I can't imagine he'd go for it. He wouldn't be Harry if that were the case.

I come up for air before either of the two girls.

"What do you think?" Harry asks, sitting on the long, underwater ledge and leaning against the side of the indoor swimming pool they call a bathtub in the prefect's bathroom.

I float over to a point a few feet away, eventually pulling myself up and resting my head against the side. "I think Hermione was right: definitely an underwater task, most likely in the Black Lake."

As if on cue, Hermione stands up and walks over to sit between us.

"But an hour long?" Harry asks. "How am I supposed to breathe underwater for an hour?"

Luna appears at my other side, startling me. "If you figure it out, let me know. I wouldn't mind listening to that egg for a while longer."

"You did look quite peaceful down there," I say. "More than usual, I mean. You're pretty, Luna."

"Thank you, William," Luna says, tilting her head and smiling.

Hermione rolls her eyes at me, but then smiles softly and says nothing about it. "So," she says, pausing as her face turns serious, "Harry has to be able to breathe underwater for up to an hour."

"Preferably a bit more than that, just in case," Harry says.

Suddenly all eyes turn to me, and I try to look like I have no idea. It doesn't work.

"You know, Hermione, if you make me tell you the answer for every puzzle you come across, your researching skills are going to start weakening."

"William, this isn't for a grade or else I _would_ do it myself," Hermione says hotly. "Harry's life could be in danger!"

"That's true I suppose, but the Second Task isn't for almost three months," I counter. "So I think you should ask Neville."

"_Neville_?" Hermione says.

"Oh yes," I say in what I hope is a reassuring manner. "Neville should know one rather interesting solution."

"I know Neville's a good bloke, Will, but why would he know it and we wouldn't?" Harry asks.

"Hermione?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

"Luna?"

"Neville is enthusiastic about Herbology," she says.

"So there's some kind of plant that could help?" Harry asks.

"I'm sure I don't know, you'll have to ask Neville," I say with a smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Hermione asks petulantly.

"Immensely. Although I am surprised that you've never come across the most obvious Charms solution. It seems like something that would be taught at some point in the Hogwarts curriculum." Really, how _is_ Hermione so well-read and yet she had never heard of the Bubble-head Charm? But then, I suppose Google doesn't exist yet. Idly I wonder how the wizarding world will change once the Internet becomes ubiquitous.

"You know _two_ possible solutions?" Harry asks incredulously.

"Two for sure," I say with a grin. "I'm sure if you're sufficiently creative and powerful you could do some wicked Transfiguration. It would be way awesomer if you transfigured a tree into a submarine or something."

"Awesomer is not a word, William," she says idly.

"Language is descriptive, not prescriptive. The meaning of 'awesomer' is clear enough that everybody understood, so it gets the point across even if it's not a proper word."

"Well, why not use a proper one?"

"Because I'm a Yank and therefore have no use for the proper Queen's English," I say reasonably. "Plus it was way awesomer to use an improper one for this particular occasion: making outrageous suggestions."

Hermione's mouth opens and closes a couple times.

"I agree with William," Luna says thoughtfully.

"You had no choice, really, for I am both a cunning linguist and a master debater."

A moment of silence ensues as my words sink in, and then Harry and Luna burst out in laughter and Hermione chokes on her saliva. I'm surprised at first, since that was supposed to be a bad, overdone joke, but then I remembered that Austin Powers doesn't come out for five more years. I wish I could remember more jokes from the future.

* * *

"I have something to say to you all," Professor McGonagall says as near the end of Transfiguration class some days later. Her eyes focus on Harry. "The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish." Whispers erupted at that point, but the professor charged onward. "Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall."

She proceeds to chastise us in advance for our behavior, but I stop listening in order to enjoy some reactions. I glance over at Hermione, who's actually frowning at Harry, who in turn looks more frightened than he did when he learned he was going to face a dragon. Ron is trying his best to melt into his chair, while Lavender and Parvati are twittering excitedly and glancing around at many of the boys. Which includes me, surprisingly.

The sound of the bell brings my attention back to the present, and as I stand to leave, Professor McGonagall calls out once more. "Potter – a word, if you please."

"Can you believe Harry, saying he isn't going?" Hermione asks angrily while we walk out and wait in the corridor.

I laugh. "Oh, I fully believe he said that, but I don't believe he'll get his way."

"What do you mean?"

"The Triwizard Champions open the Ball with the first dance. He might not be required by magic to attend, but Professor McGonagall will be just as demanding."

Her eyes light up for a moment, but the pair of chocolate brown eyes soon turn back to me with a searching look. "You don't seem too concerned about it," she observes.

"I'm not," I say with a small smile. I had actually gone for a more mischievous grin, but an unexpected pang of sadness and regret disrupts me.

Harry comes out then looking a little green, and his face falls even further when he sees us waiting for him together. "Ah, I suppose you've beaten me to it, then."

Hermione's mouth falls open, then rapidly glances back and forth between us.

"No, I haven't. I figure we'll duel for her, just like in the old stories." My voice switches to superhero. "I shall win our fair lady's hand, you dastardly villain!"

"Boys," she scoffs, but she turns her head to hide her blush at the same time.

"S-seriously?" Harry asks.

I sigh, dropping my head onto my chest and slumping my shoulders in mock depression. "Well, you could at least pretend like defeating me won't be a piece of cake." Then I stand up straighter and go for the small smile again. "Actually, I was kidding. I can't go."

"_What_? _Why_?" Hermione asks, aghast.

I raise an eyebrow and manage a smirk at Hermione. "I would think you should be pleased, Hermione. Now Harry and I don't have to fight a rather lopsided duel."

"Be serious, William!"

I sigh. "Oh very well, ruin my fun then. I don't have dress robes. I could probably afford a set from Secondhand Robes in Diagon Alley, but I would rather purchase items I might use more than once."

Her face falls. "I-I'm sorry William...I just keep forgetting..."

"It's no big deal," I say in a hopefully unconcerned voice, punctuated by a wave of my hand. I consider claiming that I have plans, but I can't think of a convincing follow-on lie if she calls me on it. What else could I possibly do on Christmas Day, anyway?

We walk in silence for a short time on our way to lunch. I keep hearing Hermione breathing in like she's going to say something, but she never does. I decide to take the initiative. "Harry, I know you don't have to worry about me anymore, but if you let this gorgeous witch go unattached by the time we reach the Great Hall, we're both going to miss out."

Hermione tilts her head to look up at me, then drops her gaze and smiles demurely, while Harry misses a step.

I drop Hermione's arm and hop in front of them, bringing them to a halt. With a mischievous grin I grab their unclasped hands and bring them together as well, then bend down and chop the back of Harry's knee so he falls to it.

"William," Hermione says, rolling her eyes but still smiling widely.

Harry, slightly red-faced at my antics, seizes the opportunity. "Hermione, would you do me the honor of being my date for the Yule Ball?"

"Of course!" she says, pulling him up for one of her bone-crushing hugs.

I start to have a coughing fit, but by pure happenstance it sounds like the words 'cheek, go for the cheek.'

They both turn their heads to follow my urging, and they end up kissing just outside each other's mouths – the edges of their lips touching. They both look surprised for several moments, then they break apart with bright red cheeks.

I fight the urge to Ruin the Moment, though I can't stop my face from cracking into a smile. I most certainly do not have to fight down a mild pang of jealousy, because I am well aware of the fact that I don't belong here, and that this is how it should be.

Then Hermione surprises me by throwing her arms over my shoulders, pulling me down slightly while she stands on her tiptoes, and planting a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you, William," she whispers, resting her head on my chest for a moment.

I bite back another Moment Ruiner urge to hide my conflicted feelings and settle for a kiss on top of her head.

* * *

"Sorry, that doesn't sound familiar," Neville says, brows furrowed. "Should it?"

"William hinted that you might know, as if there was some plant that might help," Hermione says, looking at me with an odd expression.

"Perhaps it's a potion ingredient?" Luna supplies hopefully. I do a double take, only just realizing that Luna is sitting with us at the Gryffindor table. Scanning the Ravenclaw table, none of them appear to notice, or at least if they do, they don't care.

Neville shakes his head. "I'm absolute rubbish at potions, if it's that I probably wouldn't know it."

I frown, sure that Neville had known it. Then it strikes me: Neville knew in the movie, but in the book he never got the hint from the books that Crouch/Moody gave to him earlier in the year. "I feel like it's something simple, something that I should know but can't remember," I say, hoping that rather pathetic hint does something for him.

"I-is this for the next Task?" Neville asks quietly. "Did you really think I'd know something to help Harry with that?"

Now, how do I answer that without giving myself away? I let out a slow breath to gather my thoughts, trying to come up with a better hint. "I'm positive you can, Neville. I bet you have...more Herbology books than Hermione, plus she's busy looking for potential Charms to use." I almost say 'have read' but I'm not entirely certain that he actually read them. And betting that anybody has read more books of a certain type than Hermione would not be safe, no matter what the genre. Except fanfiction, I mean. I'm quite certain I've got her beat on that front. "It's best if Harry has multiple strategies so he can adapt in case one fails."

Suddenly his eyes widen. "Those books Professor Moody gave me at the beginning of the year! _Water Plants of the_...something or other! I'll go get them right now!" He jumps out of the recliner and dashes toward the exit.

Hermione's hair nearly lashes me in the face as her head whips around to look at me.

"What?" I ask innocently.

"You knew about those books!"

"Of course I did," I say with a grin. "You might recall a particular length of time early in the year when a certain witch told me to get lost, and I hung out with Neville a lot more often."

Thankfully my Level 3 Guilt Trip feat negates the bonus roll she gets for her Detect Lie ability against Moment Ruiners. Or something like that.

"You told William to get lost?" Luna asks in the most concerned voice I'd ever heard from her.

"She sure did," Ron puts in between mouthfuls. Of course, that's not to say he actually has no food in his mouth right now. "Don't know what she was thinking, really."

"I didn't...I mean, it wasn't...I thought..." Hermione stammers, red with embarrassment. Yeah, her Detect Lie ability never stood a chance against a Three-Pronged Guilt Trip Attack.

"It was a simple misunderstanding, no big deal," I say waving the point away. "I got to hang out with Neville and bring him up to our seventh floor sky gazing sessions, so it worked out well enough."

Luna's face softens while I'm speaking – wait, was she actually angry? Then a smile crosses her face. "I suppose it did. Neville asked me to the Yule Ball."

"That's wonderful, Luna!" Hermione says in a little squeal. She must be pleased for the reprieve.

I whistle. "You guys work fast! Harry completely surprised me by asking Hermione before we even got here."

I take an elbow to the kidney. "I suppose you accidentally put my hand in his, and then accidentally knocked Harry to one knee, did you?" Hermione says with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"Why, William?" Luna asks, perplexed.

"Oh, I can't go, no dress robes," I say nonchalantly.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Ron mutters, as Luna actually looks sadder than I remember seeing her.

"Because you have them," I point out.

"That can be remedied," he says darkly.

"Oh, come on, Ronald, yours aren't that bad," Hermione says.

Ron puts on a grumpy pout as he crosses his arms. "Compared to what?"

"Er..."

* * *

Neville is so set on helping Harry that Crouch/Moody almost kicks him out of Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. He practically had to be fed at dinner before he missed it entirely by keeping a book on the table in place of his plate. The only time I'm actually sure he wasn't reading at least one of his books was double Potions on Friday afternoon, and that's only because he's terrified of Professor Snape.

Despite the coming weekend, Neville does not let up. The six of us can't go to the Gryffindor common room with Luna in tow. Or at least, we can't go unmolested. Our Housemates are all firmly entrenched on Team Harry because of the First Task, but bringing a Ravenclaw into the common room – even someone so harmless as Luna by someone as popular as Harry – might be seen as treasonous.

But not wanting to rely too heavily on the Room of Requirement, we remain in the Great Hall well after dinner, where several other inter-House groups of friends hang out. Not wanting to seem unwelcoming, we leave off the privacy charm and chat about inconsequential things. Katie Bell and her friend in our year, Leanne something or other, join us, and the former begins unsubtly fishing for information on whether or not Harry has a date for the Ball yet.

I glance up from my wizard's chess game against Ron – which I am losing quite horribly – and take a longer look at Katie. She's pretty short and somewhat stocky for a girl, but she is pretty. Unfortunately I'm not nearly as observant as Luna, so I have no idea if Katie's actually into Harry, just wants to go as a friend, or wants to go with a Champion for the prestige. I consider telling Ron to ask her or Leanne, but I'm curious to see if he actually does it on his own with the changes I've made.

Well, maybe I'll give him a little push. "So, Katie, Ron here told me you're a hell of a Chaser. I'm bummed I showed up here the only year that there would be no Quidditch; I would have loved cheering on the three Flying Foxes of Gryffindor."

Her head cocks back in surprise at that.

"William, where did you hear that name?" Hermione scolds. "It's barbaric!"

"I heard it from a fan." Fanfiction, that is. I laugh at my own internal joke. "I like it, plus I think it might be good promotional material for attracting pro scouts to Gryffindor games next year. Who wouldn't want to see Harry Potter and the Flying Foxes of Gryffindor?" I wonder if there is fanfiction by that name yet. If not, there should be. "And the three Weasley brothers, of course," I add belatedly. "We'll have to figure out how to work that in and still make it sound as good."

Katie's eyes are wide and unfocused. Ron's jaw drops so low he'll be drooling in no time.

Luna waves her arms in front of them. "I think you broke them, William. Either that or this is the most coordinated wrackspurt assault I've ever seen."

"You'd better be careful," Harry says with an amused smile. "I think once they snap out of it, either one of them is liable to start snogging you. Or both."

"Hm, Ron's a little too far on the male side for my tastes, but Katie's cute."

"William," Hermione says in a half growling, half embarrassed tone. At least I get a giggle out of Leanne.

"Sorry, Harry's the one that brought up snogging though. So, while Ron's broken, does anyone think he'll notice if I—" I gesture to the complete shellacking I'm getting on the chess board.

"Yeah, he always notices," Harry grumbles.

"Drat."

"I've got it!" Neville shouts, abruptly standing up and hip checking the table, shifting the entire thing. He didn't seem to notice. He slams the book down in front of Harry and Hermione and jabs a finger at a page. "There!"

Hermione's eyes quickly dance over the page, then widen. "That's it, Neville, it's perfect!"

"Wow, that's fantastic!" Harry says genuinely.

Neville is beaming so brightly I think he might actually start glowing.

"I wonder if Professor Sprout is growing any in the greenhouses?" Hermione muses out loud. "It looks like it has some use as a potion ingredient too, so Professor Snape probably has some, as a last resort."

"I'll go ask Professor Sprout right now!" Neville says, sprinting out of the Great Hall.

Hermione marks the page and shuts the book and catches my eye. She turns her head slightly and lifts an eyebrow, then taps the book.

I grin as I realize she's asking me if I know. "I _shrilly plead_ my innocence."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "That's awful, William."

"She's a _chilly breed_, eh Harry?"

"Do not answer that," Hermione says, mock glaring at me.

"So you command, but _will he heed_ your advice?"

"What do you think, Harry, will he stop or _will he bleed_?"

"Oh ho! Touche! This _philly's speed_ on the uptake is impressive."

"If he calls me a philly again, never _will he breed_."

"Yikes, you are vicious! I wanted to purchase land near Hogwarts but it was a rather _hilly deed_."

She laughs. "That was quite a stretch. You _really need_ to come up with something better."

"You're too good for me, Hermione," holding my hands up in surrender. Then I smile. "I tot_ally cede_ the argument."

"Ha! Poor _Willy peed_ his pants because of you Hermione!" Harry says.

I laugh. "Sure, kick a man while he's down, Champion, Man-in-Black. Fezzik is too good at this game." I say the last with a pseudo-Spanish accent.

Hermione's eyes widen, and then she laughs, too. "I think I should be Inigo."

"Inconceivable! You would not have won, then."

"Are you two finished, yet?" Ron cuts in. "You're making my brain hurt."

"What in the name of Merlin were you guys talking all that gibberish about, anyway?" Katie asks.

"Ah, my apologies, Ron, Katie. Welcome back, by the way. We might have gotten a bit carried away; something of a Muggle-born joke."

"Just a bit?" Katie asks. "No matter, let's go back to the Quidditch thing again."

"Yeah!" Ron agrees.

"You really think that nickname could help draw scouts?" Katie asks, eyes alight.

I smile. One track minds, they have. "Of course! Hermione may not appreciate objectifying you ladies since it should be about your talent, but hey: sex sells. We men are suckers for a pretty face. Most women, too."

Hermione hides her face. "You are shameless, William."

"Hey, this is just basic Muggle advertising. When you want to get men to buy a product, you get beautiful women to sell it, because men are attracted to them. When you want to get women to buy a product, you get beautiful women to sell it, because women are attracted to the _idea_ of looking like said beautiful women." I gesture at Katie. "Stick a beautiful Chaser on a pro Quidditch squad, and men will dream about flying beside her, and young women will dream about flying _as_ her. Now multiply that by three and add in a super-famous Seeker – sorry Harry – and you've got a sure ticket seller."

"Do you have a date for the Ball?" Katie blurts out suddenly.

I frown. Oops, I was supposed to be helping Ron out. "Sorry, I—"

"Damn, too late again!" she says, slapping the table. "Well I'm gonna run and tell Alicia and Angelina what you said before I forget it all. It was nice meeting you, William! Later, Harry!"

Before I can object, she's already sprinting out of the Hall. Leanne mutters a quick goodbye and scurries after her friend.

"Wow, you have a gift, William," Hermione says with a grin. "That's three people you've sent running out of here at full speed."

"At least they aren't running away screaming," I say weakly.

"Yet," Harry says. Most of the remaining people in our group laugh at that.

I can't help but also join in with a chuckle. "True enough, true enough. I think I'm about to send Ron running away and screaming from the horror that is my chess play."

"Nah, he's used to it," Harry says.

"Actually he's way worse than you, Harry," Ron says. "Checkmate."

I laugh again. "I did not see that coming at all. Well, Ron, I wish I could say it's been educational, but I didn't learn a thing."

"It's getting late, do you think Neville will come back here or just head for the common room?" Hermione says.

"Sprout will give him a pass," Harry assures her. "Let's just head up."

Suddenly a pair of pale, delicate arms wrap around my chest, then a mass of dirty blonde hair snakes its way over my shoulder, framing an equally pale and delicate face that plants a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you for what you did for Neville," she says with a smile. I'm too shocked to reply. She gives another light squeeze before she lets go. "Goodbye, William, Harry, Hermione, Ron." She gives me a rather un-Luna-like smile then turns and sprints out of the Great Hall.

* * *

A/N:

My D&D exposure is limited to various video games based on it, so I apologize for my pathetic attempt at D&D humor.

The Flying Foxes of Gryffindor came from _Harry Potter and the Rejected Path_ by zArkham, I believe. I may have heard it elsewhere as well.

CORRECTION: One reviewer noted that zArkham probably picked it up from _The_ _Lie I've Lived_ by jbern. Any earlier?

_The Princess Bride_: best movie of the 80's, or best movie of all time?

R & R, C & C

* * *

OMAKE #3:

_Yes, I actually wrote a scene where Luna and I, in my Lucius disguise, speak to Draco. And Daphne. And Fleur. And Cedric. And Dumbledore. Yeah, I laughed hysterically when I wrote it, but it got a little out of hand. And by a little out of hand, I mean a lot out of hand. Sorry again.  
_

"Nah, I think we should go find Draco," Harry says.

That is exactly what we do.

"What is this, mudblood?" the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy intones.

"Did you hear something, child? This lesser being has several unruly strands of hair, and therefore its voice cannot penetrate my immaculate mane."

"No, father, we have not bribed enough people today, therefore the sheer number of galleons in my money pouch is drowning out the sound of its voice."

"Very well. You, minions! You now belong to me, and you shall attend my child while we intimidate lesser beings. Go ahead, you may bribe them now, my child."

Malfoy's mouth is opening and closing, while Crabbe and Goyle look even more confused. Luna skips over to one of the ogres and starts tugging on his sleeve.

"Take your hands off of my minion, blood traitor!"

"How dare you?" Luna asks, eyes blazing. Her melodic voice lessens the effect. "You wait until my father hears about this!"

Peals of laughter erupt behind me and I make a choking sound in my throat, after which I cough to cover it up. "Wait until I hear about what, my child?"

"This lesser being has refused me my minions and insulted me!"

"Preposterous!" My glare turns to Draco. "You are not worthy of hair color such as ours." I wave my hand and his hair becomes a mottled, frizzy dark-brown not unlike Hagrid's.

More laughter sounds behind me, and even the pack of Slytherins nearby snickers at it.

"You've insulted me for the last time, mudblood!" Before Draco can even point his wand he is locked in my wandless body bind, and falls to the floor on his back.

"Come, my child, this hideous floor decoration offends my delicate sensibilities. Minions! Assemble!"

I begin to walk forward a few steps but stop when I see Daphne's ice-blue eyes dancing in mirth. "You, attractive female! You shall be my child's bride."

"But your child is a—"

"Halt! I see your mouth moving but my hair is too much prettier than yours to hear your words. I shall fix it." I wave my hand and her raven-black ringlets become a bright blonde. Her eyes widen in shock. "There, you are now worthy to be my child's betrothed."

"Oh, father, thank you!" Luna cries. "I will so enjoy—"

"Stop, child! You must not take such enjoyment from such activities, which force us to spend another two hours fixing our hair afterward. True, it is necessary to produce an heir to inherit my unfathomable riches and power, but other than that, you shall have far too much primping and sneering to do to enjoy a wife."

"_What_?" Daphne growls.

"Father, she does not seem to want to be a baby factory."

"Then do as we always do. Bribe her! Now, attend me!" I bark out the final command and stride away.

"Wait!" Tracey calls. "Me too, me too!"

"What is that sound?" I ask imperiously.

"Father, this lesser being wants to receive your gift of the perfect hair color."

"Very well, lesser being, I am feeling generous on this, the day of my child's betrothal. You shall attend my child's betrothed." I wave my hand and her honey-brown locks become honey-blonde.

"Thank you!" Tracey giggles.

"The now-slightly-higher lesser being thanks you, father," Luna translates.

"I am far too high of a life form for that to concern me. Now, I tire of this sentimental behavior. We are many sneers short of our daily quota."

With that I march off in search of more people to freak out. I almost laugh out loud when Fleur appears in front of us with a few other Beauxbatons girls. "Greetings, attractive female."

"For ze last time, I—"

"Halt!" I say, holding up a hand. "I know what you are going to ask, but I must inform you that it is too late, for my child is already betrothed to this attractive female." I wave my hand back, assuming Daphne is back there somewhere. "I am, however, impressed that your hair is moderately well-done, and your sneer is adequate. As a somewhat higher being you may join my entourage while we go to sneer at lesser beings. Attend!"

I march away at her shocked expression, wondering if she'll actually follow me. I hear Harry say something to her behind me, so I think she will. Soon we come upon Cedric and a group of Hufflepuffs. Perfect!

He scans the group with a confused expression. "Harry, what's going on?"

"This is another Triwizard Champion, father," Luna supplies without prompting.

"I am not impressed," I say with a sneer. "I was Triwizard Champion over one hundred times when I was in school."

"That's not even poss—" a voice says behind me, but I quickly cut him off.

"What is this small golden object he is holding, child?"

"It's the egg that contains the hint for the Second Task, father."

"Any luck with it, Harry, Fleur?" Cedric asks.

"None," Harry says.

"Ze same," Fleur offers.

"Do your eggs sound like this?" Cedric opens it for a split second, and I imperiously avoid reacting to the unholy screeching.

They both answer in the affirmative.

"My child, it seems like these fools do not even recognize the Mermish language unless both they and the egg are underwater. Are you sure they are these so-called Champions?"

The shock on their faces is priceless. I make sure that my smile is hidden behind a sneer.

"F-father, it seems your perfect hair gives you auditory abilities these lesser beings only dream of."

"Yes, yes, I see, my child. I must remember that not everyone can be so great a being as myself. Come, we must find more lesser beings to sneer at. I have not yet had my fill."

"Might I suggest the Great Hall?" I hear Daphne's voice, which has also taken on a regal tone, say behind me. "I expect many students and professors will be arriving shortly."

"An excellent idea, my child's betrothed. I see that I have chosen well, which of course it would be impossible for me to do otherwise. You shall become a valued asset to my superior family. Attend!"

We march imperiously into the Great Hall and I head straight for the head table, where Dumbledore and McGonagall along with a few others are sitting. They look up in shock at what must be the oddest sight they'd ever seen. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Lerner?" the headmaster asks, eyes twinkling.

I do not answer.

"Father, this being is the headmaster," Luna supplies.

"Impossible. My hair is far superior to his."

I hear Hermione's distinct gasp behind me, while Dumbledore chuckles.

I spin on my heel and am surprised to see quite a delegation of students behind me. I almost break character and laugh when I see that Crabbe and Goyle are actually standing near Luna, Daphne, and Tracey as if protecting them. Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron are standing behind them with varying degrees of shock and disbelief. Fleur and a few Beauxbatons girls are standing further back near Cedric and a few Hufflepuffs. Behind them are other students from various Houses, and I think I even see a Durmstrang student.

As soon as I've bitten my tongue enough to stave off laughter, I speak. "As the being with the most perfect hair and intimidating sneer, I invoke the ritual of Headmaster Usurpation, pursuant to the ancient rites and laws of the Founders in the Thirty-Third Article, Section B of the Hogwarts Charter. As my first order of business, my child and her betrothed shall receive Outstandings on all past and future assignments and exams, and shall receive special dispensation to inflict hair color transfiguration as either punishment or reward as they see fit. So mote it be."

I see many mouths drop open in shock, and I almost frown in confusion. It couldn't be because what I said. "Um, father..." Luna says, looking over my shoulder.

I spin around and Dumbledore is standing there with perfectly manicured strawberry blonde hair, falling in waves both down his back and from his chin. His long blonde beard is tucked into his belt, and he is smiling broadly, eyes twinkling madly. "Most amusing, Mr. Lerner. Most amusing indeed..."

* * *

OMAKE #4:

_The first version of the bathroom scene was a bit extended. I thought it might be funny to give myself a dose of my own medicine, but I think it came out rather too inappropriate._

"Luna?"

"Neville's likes Herbology, right?"

"Ding ding ding! You win, Luna!"

"Ooo, what do I win?" Luna's eyes light up.

"Uh...I dunno. Any other time I would have said a hug, but considering our attire – or lack thereof – that might not be appropriate."

"Wait, did you just pass up the chance for a hug with a pretty girl?" Hermione asks, acting scandalized. "Who are you and what have you done with our friend? Surely our William would have tried to slip a kiss on the cheek in there as well."

"Hermione, I am a perfect gentleman, so I'm certain I have no idea what you mean and why are you laughing?"

"Sorry, William," Hermione says, eyes alight. "Please do go on and regale us with your gentlemanly ways, and how a hug and a kiss never crossed your mind."

"Hermione, I believe he is implying that he might become aroused if he hugged me while we are barely clothed," Luna explains. The other three of us start making various choking sounds and turning various shades of red. "I'm surprised you don't realize that, Hermione. It's quite a natural reaction for a boy who finds a girl pretty, even if he doesn't have romantic feelings for her."

I try to make very intelligible sounds in reply, but I have no words.

"I-I see, very good then, moving on," Hermione chokes out quickly, looking anywhere but in my direction.

Harry starts chuckling, which soon grows into full-blown laughter.

"What's so funny, Harry?" Hermione asks.

"I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I think we just found somebody who can out-embarrass William."

"You shouldn't be embarrassed, William," Luna says, "I am quite flattered, really."

"Uh...thanks Luna."

"So do I get a hug and kiss now?"

Hermione starts giggling, and I decide to take revenge. "I have a better idea. For your prize...wait, why do you get a prize again? Oh well, who cares? For your prize you get a hug and an optional kiss from me, Harry, Neville, or...Hermione." I clear my throat. "Uh, once we're fully clothed, that is."

"All four," Luna replies instantly.

"I...should have seen that one coming."


	13. Chapter 13: Meetings and Confrontations

Disclaimer: I asked JK Rowling to the Harry Potter Universe Ownership Ball, but it turns out she's the only one going.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Thirteen: Meetings and Confrontations**

The last week of classes pass with pretty much everyone Fourth Year and above – along with many Third Years – securing dates to the Yule Ball instead of being concerned with end-of-term exams. Even the professors get into it, which makes it much easier to pass my practical exams with my still burgeoning ability to fake wanded spell-casting. To take my mind off of the Yule Ball I work furiously on the last of my gifts, including the new picture frame for Daphne, to the point where I'm begging off hanging out with Harry, Hermione and the others for the opportunity. The Ouroboros wrapped around Daphne's frame turns out so well I consider trying to make some kind of bangle, or an upper arm...wrap thing, whatever it's called.

But then I remember I have no fashion sense whatsoever so she'd probably never wear it. Still, I'll have to think of something. I consider what runes to carve. Daphne's in Ancient Runes with me and Hermione, so if I use _gebo_ she'll know it doesn't necessarily mean love. But for the opposite corner? _Dagaz_ somewhat fits, but that's too obvious, I think. No, _perth_ is better, to symbolize both the picture and our friendship itself.

Plus _perth_ will be easier, but I won't tell her that was a consideration.

The runes themselves take the better part of two hours to completely carve out, since my veiner is going dull from heavy usage. I'll have to see Hagrid about that after term is up.

I gather my carved wooden gifts together and study them more closely. I frown at them, second guessing myself that they'll be well-received. I wish I could make them actually do something. Oh well, nothing to do for it now. Plus I still have to try and work out some issues with Harry's. I'm fairly certain my _ingwaz-thurisaz-ingwaz_ triplet is charging and being depleted correctly, having tried to use the rune scheme myself. But I have yet to figure out if the _haglaz-uruz-algiz_ layers over the _ingwaz_ center will actually work the way I hope they will. I didn't notice any difference, but then, my past is quite a bit milder than Harry's. I had long since decided to forgo the _naudiz_ auto-draining scheme until I'm positive that Harry wouldn't die while testing it.

I decide I'll go see Professor Babbling again, show her my progress and see if she knows a better way to test it. On that note, maybe I'll take the wooden charms as well, see what she thinks about making them actually do something. I stash the six frames in my usual spot and head out.

To my surprise, I run into a sizable group of Slytherins coming in from outdoors, laughing cruelly. Idly I wonder if they were doing something cruel, or if they simply don't know another way to laugh. To my dismay, this group includes both Daphne Greengrass and Draco Malfoy.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Draco says, sneering. "A filthy mudblood walking all alone in such a big, dangerous castle? You know, you could get hurt doing that."

I cross my arms, then lift my hand to rub my chin. "Hmm. Yes. Yes, I see. I could very well stub my toe. Thanks for the warning, Mr. Malfoy! You're such a good friend." While I'm talking, I cast a privacy charm over the entire group.

"I'm not your friend!"

"Really? Well, that's too bad. This isn't about trying to steal your minions, is it? I told you I was only joking about that." I smile a bit at a couple of the Slytherins apparently looking around, trying to find the source of the light buzzing. Daphne's eyes are narrowed at me.

"No, this is about you being inferior," he says with a sneer.

I raise my eyebrows. "Oh? On what grounds? Besides hair, I mean. I admit you are far superior to me in that regard. Although perhaps with a cut and a bit more care, I could—"

Predictably his face turns red with anger. "Blood, you peasant! You're nothing but a mudblood; you don't belong here."

He's right, I don't belong here, but that's not why. "This again? Tell you what, why don't you ask Professor Snape about his parents? Go ask how far the 'Snape' surname goes back in the magical world." My eyes briefly flicker over to Daphne and I grin evilly. "Actually, here's a better idea: go and ask your father who Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. is, and ask him who his parents were."

Daphne's eyes widen dramatically while Draco's narrow. "Why would I care about some stupid wizard I've never heard of?"

"Oh, you've heard of him, Mr. Malfoy. He goes by a different name, now." I sharpen the magic that I've been holding since I saw the group and my finger starts to glow the same light green as the Killing Curse. Several Slytherins take half a step back at that. I spin around and start writing letters in the air, confident that he's sufficiently interested to let me finish.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

I reach out a tendril of magic to pluck one letter at a time and move them down onto a new line. Not in order, though; don't wanna ruin the surprise for everybody but Daphne. I wish I could do the easy swish thing that Voldemort actually did to rearrange them, but oh well, it doesn't take long

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

I spin back around to find extremely pale faces, including Daphne's. Ah, I didn't point out the anagram thing when I told her. Maybe she really believes it now.

"Oops, you didn't know his real name, did you? Go ahead, Mr. Malfoy, ask your father who Tom Marvolo Riddle Sr. was. Ask him to look up the Gaunt family. I'd love to be a fly on the wall when he figures that out." I hold my hand out behind me and absorb the letters back into my hand. I don't recover any magic, but I figure it looks cool.

"You-you know nothing!" Draco says, terrified.

I laugh cruelly. "Don't I? Well I guess you've got nothing to lose, then. Your father will find out his master really does believe in blood supremacy, right? Your father will find out that he isn't simply being used for his money, won't he? And then you won't take over the family fortune one day, only to be used in the _exact same way_, will you?"

My previously-primed, wandless Disarming Hex hits him right after he draws, and his wand sails right into my outstretched hand. "Your family may buy you political connections – for now, at least – but once you pull this wand out, blood means nothing. The bastard son of a Muggle and an inbred near-Squib who rose to challenge Dumbledore should have shown you that."

"You've dug your own grave, mudblood," he growls.

I shrug. "Perhaps we both have. Think! You're smarter than this! What's the average life expectancy of a Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy? I guess you don't have to worry about your fantastic hair going gray. At least my life is my own, and I don't have a family fortune to lose along with it. All-in-all, despite being what you call a mudblood, I've got it easier than you...at least as long as you continue thinking you have to follow in your father's footsteps."

Draco stares daggers at me, jaw clenched tightly, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. I flip his wand back to him, never taking my eyes off of him. With a look of mild surprise, he snatches it out of the air and looks closely at it. Then he spins and stalks off the way he was headed, robes billowing behind him.

"Draco!" Pansy yells, then follows with a dirty glare my way. Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent, and a girl with glasses I don't recognize chase after their departing Housemates.

Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise remain behind, staring at me with varying expressions.

"That was very foolish of you, Gryffindor," Daphne says after a moment.

I smirk. "Was it? Trading someone else's private information for throwing my 'enemies' into disarray, planting seeds of doubt to encourage defection? At most I enlarged the target that is already on my back for being a Muggleborn friend of Harry Potter. Quite a bargain, I think."

Tracey gasps and Blaise's eyes darken. Daphne shakes her head, then chuckles. "Just winging it again, aren't you?"

I grin. "You know me too well."

"You are ridiculous."

"I'm not smart enough for ridicule to work on me," I say. "Must be the mud in my blood."

"Why do you do that?" Tracey blurts. "Call yourself a mudblood, I mean."

I look at her in surprise. "You saw, Ms. Davis. I deny Draco his goal when I use the name for myself. He's used to Harry and his friends taking offense to that, and by doing so they give him exactly what he wants. He wanted me to be scared, and then he wanted me to be angry, and then he wanted to hit me with a spell. He lost every time."

"What if he ordered us all to attack you?" Daphne asks.

I shrug. "He might have 'won' then, if you can consider that a victory."

"Might have?" Daphne asks, eyebrow raised.

"I don't use my wand, Daphne," I pull it out and toss it to her. "You tell me what that might mean. The spell to check the previous—" Suddenly that thought makes my blood run cold. "—actually on second thought, maybe that's not such a good idea." I reach for my wand but she holds it away, out of my reach.

"Oh, what's this?" Daphne asks, ice-blue eyes alight, lips turned up in a devious smile. "Suddenly worried about what we'll find?"

"Yes, actually. Considering I have never used it and I only obtained it this summer—"

"_Prior Incantato_!"

I cringe, waiting for something horrendous to happen, but after several seconds of tense silence, I let out a heavy breath.

"You really don't use it!" Blaise blurts out, breaking his usually collected and stern facade.

"How...how is that possible?" Tracey asks.

"As an ignorant mudblood, I wouldn't know."

"No, William, you don't understand," Daphne says. I see Blaise's eyes darken in anger and Tracey's eyes widen when she uses my first name, but Daphne doesn't notice. "There's no way for a wand to show nothing at all. It had to have been tested at some point, and _prior incantato_ does not erase the previous spell."

I shrug. "Maybe somebody figured out how to erase the previous spell. Or maybe I wandlessly blocked your spell just to trick you."

Her eyes snap to mine. "Did you?"

"No, but I might have tried if I had thought of it in time."

"What does this mean?" Daphne asks rhetorically.

The four of us are silent for some time.

"Daph, we better go," Blaise says finally.

She takes a long breath, then brushes a lock of long, straight, raven-black hair out of her face with one hand while she uses the other to return my wand. Then she studies my face for a moment. "My father wishes to meet with you."

"_What_?" I realize after I say it that I wasn't the only one.

"Can you make it to the Three Broomsticks at one in the afternoon, this Saturday?"

"Uh..." My mind goes blank. What the hell am I supposed to do?

She chuckles. "You face down an entire group of hostile Slytherins without fear, and now you're scared to meet my father?"

Well, I wouldn't say without fear. So I don't. "Yes."

"Oh." Apparently she did not expect that answer.

"Will you be there?"

"Yes."

I consider that for a short time. Obviously a lot of things could go wrong, but this might be a chance to make more allies as well. Assuming Daphne was telling the truth, he doesn't seem the type to set up some kind of ambush since there obviously won't be any profit involved in kidnapping or threatening me. I suppose I can always 'get caught' if Harry or Hermione think of a reason I need to get out of it. "Well usually I prefer to go on more dates before I meet my girlfriend's parents, but it's a date."

"I'm not your girlfriend and it is not a date."

"If you say so," I say, smiling. "See you then, Daphne. Mr. Zabini, Ms. Davis."

* * *

"I don't like it," Hermione says at breakfast the next morning, predictably.

"I didn't think you would," I say. "So that means you and Harry will come with me, right?"

Hermione's lips press together. "I'd rather none of us go at all."

"It would be nice to get out of the castle, Hermione, and we'll be in public so it'll be safe," Harry says.

"Like it was at the Quidditch World Cup?" she asks hotly.

"That was at night and it was a planned attack," he points out. "Nobody would expect us in Hogsmeade in the middle of the day. We'll be in and out in a half hour, tops."

She digs her heels in. "How do you know it isn't planned? It's well-known that you're friends with William, and that you might go with him. It's an unnecessary risk."

"I refuse to be shut up in here all the time for the fear that something might happen," Harry says tightly.

"How about disguises? Harry could take his Cloak, and we could change your hair like I did mine."

She shakes her head. "That still leaves you exposed. I could ask a Professor—"

"Who wouldn't let us go," Harry quickly cuts in.

"They might, with the term being over," she retorts, but she doesn't sound very certain of that at all.

"Sirius," I say. "He's back, isn't he? And Lupin. Invite them, say we'll be in the pub and then we'll meet them in the Shrieking Shack. Lupin can either come in with us or walk his dog around Hogsmeade for awhile until we come out. I want to talk to Sirius anyway."

"That would be brilliant!" Harry says excitedly. "I want to see him again myself."

"Do you think they'll be able to make it, though?" Hermione asks.

"They'll come," Harry says firmly.

Hermione bites her lip. "That's still only two more, even if they are adults..."

"Lupin has a Patronus, right?" I ask. At Harry's nod I continue. "Well I assume he knows Dumbledore's method of sending a message if necessary. And if we really get in trouble we can probably get help from the other Dumbledore at Hog's Head Inn."

"_What_? What other Dumbledore?"

"Oh yeah, Aberforth Dumbledore is the proprietor there," I say. "He's the headmaster's brother; not as powerful, I think, but that's not really saying much. He once had a three-way duel with Professor Dumbledore and Grindelwald, so he definitely can't be too much of a slouch."

Harry and Hermione stare open-mouthed at me. "One day, William," she says. "One day you're going to tell me all of these things you know that seem to suddenly pop up when we need them."

I smile. "Well, that information wouldn't have been useful to any of us before, would it? So it didn't occur to me until we started talking about safety in Hogsmeade."

"Any more information about it that we may find useful?"

I rub my chin in thought. What else do I remember about Hogsmeade? Madam Rosmerta gets placed under the Imperius by Draco a couple years from now. After a few minutes I shake my head. "I can't think of anything that big. Aberforth has a Patronus, too, and I'm pretty sure he can send a message with it. And if we do talk to him, try to avoid mentioning his brother, and _definitely_ avoid mentioning Grindelwald."

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, Hermione, what do you think now? I feel even better about going."

She sighs. "Okay, I can see I'm not going to convince either of you, but I want you both to know I'm not happy about us going. In disguise, of course."

"I love you, Hermione," I say with a smile.

"You better."

* * *

As we emerge from Honeydukes after a rather uncomfortable traversal of the secret passage from Hogwarts, we immediately spot a shabbily-dressed man sitting on a nearby bench with a large, black dog at his feet, both looking directly at us. Then the man looks away. They were not looking at us, I realize, but the entrance. Since Harry is under the cloak they wouldn't be expecting just two people, and with our heavy clothing on and Hermione sporting straight, shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair covered only by earmuffs, they wouldn't recognize us.

So with a suppressed grin I walk indirectly toward them, as if I were headed to Gladrags across the street. Thankfully there is no snow to give away Harry's footprints. Once we're in range my head turns toward them, and down to Sirius. "What a pretty dog you have, sir. I simply love dogs! May I pet her?"

"It's a he, but sure," Lupin says, grinning toward Sirius.

"You are a pretty girl! Aren't you? Aren't you?" I make my baby voice as annoying as possible.

Sirius growls and pretends to snap, but I make no move to move my hand away.

"Aww, why so _serious_? You don't like me _mooning_ over you?"

Both Lupin's and the dog's eyes snap to mine suspiciously, then Sirius starts whimpering. I wonder if he can smell Harry now.

"Well I was going to allow you to sniff my lovely lady-friend's hair, but now I'm not so sure. It's a shame, really; with your olfactory receptors I imagine it would be positively rapturous. Come, dearest, let us pay our respects to Madam Rosmerta."

Hermione whacks my shoulder with a deeper blush than the cold allows, then leans over to pet Sirius quickly and whispers, "Sorry about him, Professor, we'll see you at the Shack."

Lupin's eyes widen just before I turn away. I hear him chuckle and pat Sirius on the side, but I miss the words. When we reach the door I glance back and see that Lupin and Sirius have remained seated, continuing to watch the entrance to Honeydukes. I realize it must be a ploy in case anyone is keeping tabs on them.

As we enter the Three Broomsticks, my eyes immediately find Daphne seated with a finely-dressed man – wearing fine black robes with a bit of dark green trim – who is obviously her father. He has a slightly wider face with a strong jaw and darker eyes – I can't tell about the latter for sure from this distance, but I can still see the resemblance.

"We'll be right over here, William," Hermione whispers, placing a hand on my shoulder. I glance down at her and she gestures to a table to our left.

I steel my nerves and walk over to meet the Greengrasses.

Daphne makes quick introductions, and not knowing the proper thing to do, I simply hold out my hand. He takes it without hesitation. "And what are your intentions with my daughter?" Daphne's father asks immediately after we shake hands.

"Daddy!" she whispers furiously.

"No, no, my dear, I've waited fifteen years to say these words, and this is the first boy you've written home about that you didn't want to hex into next year." He gives her a broad smile, which morphs into a more intimidating one when he turns to me. I smile right back, because I'd actually spent most of the last few days considering what I might say to Daphne's father. I actually considered this question, even though I never imagined he would ever ask it!

She blushes furiously at that but I cut off any retort she might have made. "It's okay, Daphne, I would love to answer this question. Lord Greengrass, I'm sure you're well aware that your daughter is incredibly beautiful and intelligent, and if I may, I assure you it's not just your fatherly bias telling you so. I'm quite lucky to be her friend, and I won't lie, I may have bragged about that to a couple of my other friends. If circumstances were different, I might have asked her to be my girlfriend, assuming in that case I wasn't already involved with another particular classmate of ours."

They both looked stunned at my frank admission. Her father recovers first. "What do you mean, if circumstances were different?"

"Well, sir, among other things, I don't have anything to offer her. I showed up September First with the clothes on my back and a well-used wand that barely works for me. Everything I'm wearing right now was essentially a gift from Professor McGonagall, though ostensibly I performed a string of simple tasks for her to pay her back. Any other non-Muggle clothing I might wear is borrowed from Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley's oldest brother Bill. All of my books and school supplies are on loan from Hogwarts. I-I have a simple Christmas gift for Daphne, but it's just a silly thing I made with tools on loan from a friend and raw materials from the grounds or the Forest." I almost tell him about my family, but I clamp up so as not to get any more choked up.

"Y-you didn't have to do that," Daphne says shakily. Ah, I forgot to tell her how poor I am.

I smile. "That's what everybody tells me. But I wanted to, so the point is moot."

Daphne's father gives me a small smile. "I...was not expecting such an honest answer. So this is why you will not be escorting my Daphne to the Yule Ball, is it?"

"As I told Daphne, I like to keep everybody on their toes," I say with a grin. "And yes, I would have asked her, had I the means to acquire dress robes."

"You didn't tell me any of this!" Daphne says, pointing an accusing finger at me. "You just said you couldn't go!"

"Sorry, but I do tend to avoid advertising my financial situation. Imagine what certain members of your House would say if they found out I'm borrowing things from the Weasleys!" I say with a laugh.

"You don't seem terribly put out by your situation," her father observes.

I shrug. "I'm used to it."

"So who is this other classmate of yours that you implied you might have been involved with, and why are you not?"

Daphne's mouth drops open at the direct question, but I ignore it.

"That would be Hermione Granger, the one across the pub who's either failing to look like she's not watching our every move, or outright trying to petrify me, you, and/or Daphne with her eyes. She's another Muggleborn in Gryffindor, and my best friend along with Mr. Potter. She shares several most attractive qualities with your daughter, in my estimation. I am not involved with her for many of the same reasons, though as a fellow Muggleborn my involvement with her would not have the same...issues with her family as it would with Daphne. More importantly, I'm not from around here, sir, and there's no telling how much longer I will be around. It would be more difficult for me, and if I may be selfish, I hope for them as well, when I do have to go."

Daphne's father looks at me with an unreadable expression. I'm careful not to look directly in his eyes, in case he knows some Legilimency. "I appreciate your candor, Mr. Lerner. If only...well, no matter. Tell me, what is your opinion on other potential suitors?"

"Daddy!" Daphne hisses again. "You can't possibly—"

"I'm sorry," I say slowly, "but it would be awfully presumptuous of me to—"

"Humor me," he commands.

I glance at Daphne but she's too mortified to offer any guidance. "Um...well it's a bit early to tell for certain, but I believe Harry Potter would be a good fit if he doesn't end up with Ms. Granger. He will have tremendous influence once he defeats the Dark Lord permanently, and I imagine Daphne would be even better than Ms. Granger at directing his power and influence, especially for their own gain. Mr. Potter does not wish the spotlight for himself, so as his wife, Daphne would be on a short path to Minister for Magic."

I almost laugh at the choking sound her father makes at that. "You seem rather certain of his victory..."

"I am a Gryffindor, sir, arrogance is my forte," I say with a grin. "You know that Mr. Potter is a Parselmouth? I believe, as does Headmaster Dumbledore, that is but a fraction of the power transferred to Mr. Potter when the Killing Curse reflected off of him and struck the Dark Lord. Harry is immensely powerful, and with Ms. Granger and your daughter training him and devising his strategies, and Dumbledore in his corner, I expect we will be victorious."

The older man shakes his head with a small smile and glances at his daughter, who appears to be looking anywhere but either of us. "Remarkable," he says, but does not elaborate. "Out of curiosity, what of other suitors, if Mr. Potter is unavailable? Once again, humor me." He adds the last when I start to object.

"I'm afraid I'm not terribly well-acquainted with many of them, having only been here a few months. Neville Longbottom is beginning to show flashes of confidence, and he is already brave and fiercely loyal. As Longbottom Heir I imagine it would be a lucrative match. And Daphne would have poor Mr. Longbottom wrapped around her little finger in no time." I rub my chin in thought. "None of the Weasley sons I know would be a good match, I don't think. Beyond that I can merely guess."

"What about Draco Malfoy?" he asks.

"Mr. Malfoy has potential, but he needs to get off his father's coattails before he rides them to oblivion. He wastes his time attempting to set himself up as Mr. Potter's rival, but it's a losing battle, because he simply isn't as powerful magically. When his idealized image of his father is torn down, he may change his behavior and become worthy of consideration. I'm afraid I don't know anybody else well enough to offer an opinion." Both of them look thoroughly surprised by this assessment. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone else well enough to offer an opinion, and really this was too much already," I add before he can ask me about somebody else.

"Are you two quite finished deciding my future for me?" Daphne growls furiously.

"You know that is not how the Greengrass family operates," her father scolds, then his voice grows more gentle. "He was only giving me an honest opinion which I asked for, my dear. I would not dream of making such a decision for you." He turns to me and regards me silently, lips pressed together in the same way that Daphne does when she's formulating a question. "What of your family, Mr. Lerner? Will you be meeting them for the holidays?"

I turn away and try to dump my emotions into the Void. "No." I don't elaborate because I don't trust myself to speak.

"No?" he asks, clearly expecting more.

I clench my jaw, then bite my tongue to try and remain emotionless. "My friends are my family, sir." Seeing Daphne recoil as if struck in my peripheral vision breaks my will. Damn it all, not the tears again. I bite my tongue harder to stave them off.

"I'm sorry to hear that, son," the older man says quietly. "I know my Daphne can take care of herself, but I'm pleased she'll have you looking out for her as well."

I only nod in reply.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, but if you'll excuse us, we're going to retire to my room. I have some business to discuss with my daughter."

I nod again and stand up when they do, then shake his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Lord Greengrass. Daphne," I say woodenly, with a bow to both before they turn and walk toward the stairs. I plop back down on the table, at which point I release the privacy charm and take several long, calming breaths.

"Can I get you anything, love?" the waitress asks.

"Uh, sorry, I don't have...I'm just taking a bit of a breather over here. I'm just about to join my friends. My friend, rather, over there."

"No worries, dearie, you just came in for that pretty lass and met with her father, didn't you? Poor thing. You just relax and let me get you a butterbeer. On the house."

"Thanks," I say gratefully, then I head over where Hermione immediately attacks. I barely get the _muffliato_ bubble up before the questions start flying.

"How did it go? What did he say? What did _you_ say? I saw them looking over here, what did you say about us?"

"Easy, there, Hermione," Harry says with a laugh. His somewhat loud voice startles me for a second, until I realize it's fine with the charm up. "Give the man a break already. It's not easy for a bloke to meet a girlfriend's parents, you know."

"He's not...they aren't—" she sputters.

"Don't worry, Hermione, I told him that, had circumstances been different, you would be my first choice for girlfriend, but if you and Harry were a couple then I'd have probably asked Daphne."

"Oh hush, what did you really—" At my raised eyebrow her eyes widen and she blushes."You didn't! Oh my god, William, you did! What in...what could you have possibly been thinking?"

Harry starts laughing hysterically at her shrieks, and my spirits are slightly lifted enough to chuckle. Hermione punches me.

"Ow! Okay, okay, I'll talk. After I dropped that little tidbit, he seemed mostly interested in my opinion on possible boyfriends for Daphne."

"_What_?"

"Yeah, it was a bit odd considering I don't know most of them, but I think he appreciated my honesty." I frown. "It could be that he did just want to meet me – he said I'm the first boy Daphne has written home about that she didn't want to hex. That's certain the impression he gave, but given what I was expecting, it just seems too frivolous. I can't help but feel he was judging me somehow."

"As a potential boyfriend, perhaps," Hermione says, also frowning.

"Maybe..."

The beverage arrives and I stare into it, wondering if I convinced him of whatever it was he needed to be convinced about. He seemed to like me, so that's promising. The destruction of Voldemort's soul shards without harming the anchor itself is critical, and it would be great to have two old families digging through their sources trying to figure out if it was possible. But more importantly, I think I earned a great deal of sympathy from Daphne. I feel a little bad thinking about the benefits of what I had done in earnest, but I have to take every advantage I get. I think she may be just about ready for some more of my secrets.

* * *

"Sirius!" Harry says, throwing off his Invisibility Cloak as soon as we enter the Shack and dashing toward the two Marauders. Sirius smoothly transforms back into a human and wraps Harry in a hug.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Professor Lupin," Hermione says with a cheerful smile. "And you're looking much better than the last time I saw you, Sirius."

"Please, Hermione, call me Remus," he says with a kind but tired smile. Then he turns to me. "And you must be this Mr. Lerner I've heard about."

"William, sir, pleased to meet you," I say, shaking his hand. His grip is even firmer than that of Lord Greengrass. "Sorry about earlier, by the way...had to stay in character and all."

"We never discussed characters, William," Hermione says, rolling her eyes. "Especially ones where I was your 'darling' or 'lady-friend.'"

"We didn't?" I ask innocently. "Oops."

"Well it fooled me," Lupin says with a grin. "Good show, William. I trust everything went well."

"Well enough, I suppose. Although I'm not sure what 'everything' was. Lord Greengrass just asked me a bunch of innocuous questions and then excused himself."

"I don't know him personally, but I'm given to understand he is quite a shrewd man. I assume he obtained more information from you than perhaps you realize."

I consider that for a moment. "Well, I was up front about everything I told him, including the fact that I am openly supporting Harry. And I assume he already knows I'm going to ask his daughter for help with something, since I told her. At most he got a read of my personality and he knows I have secrets, but I'm quite confident he wouldn't have been able to figure out much in that respect."

"He won't even tell me," Hermione mutters.

"Hey, Professor Lupin!" Harry says excitedly, apparently finished greeting his godfather.

"Harry, I'm not a professor any longer; you must call me Remus. How are you? Holding up well in the Tournament, I hear."

"Very well, Remus," he says, trying out the name. "Yes, the First Task was actually a piece of cake, thanks to Hermione and William here."

"He's exaggerating, Prof—Remus," Hermione says. "I barely did anything. William came up with the strategy and Harry adapted it. He should have been way out in front if one of the judges wasn't so blatantly biased. Honestly, I wish you could have seen it, if only just to see what that bloody Death Eater judged a one when the other judges gave him a nine or ten."

Despite the fact that Harry and I have heard it once before, the sound of Hermione cursing is just so unnatural that we all flinch at the venom in her voice.

"Strategy, eh? So it turns out you didn't need my recommendation to use the Conjunctivitis Curse?" Sirius asks.

"William figured out what you were going to say," Harry says. "But I ended up not using it, because I was worried about the dragon thrashing about and damaging the other eggs. It turns out Krum did exactly that, but of course Karkaroff gave him a ten, so he's tied with me."

"So we read," Lupin says with a smile. "But Summoning your broom from the castle, and then conjuring at least two dozen large, crimson birds the same color as your uniform? That was very impressive, Harry! I do wish I could have seen it in person."

"Me too. I'm so proud of you! So what of the Second Task?"

Harry smiles. "The golden egg from the nest was the clue. I've just about got it licked now with everybody's help."

"Pretty much all William, again," Hermione says with a sigh.

"Now, now, Hermione," I say. "You'll find that Charm, yet. And besides, we really needed your help in the bathtub."

"_In_ the bath?" Remus asks, eyebrows raised. Hermione blushes and Harry turns a little red as well.

"Oh yes, the three of us and Luna Lovegood all had a bath together," I say with a wide grin.

"Really?" Sirius asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and giving Harry a nudge.

"We had our suits on!" Hermione protests.

Remus, Sirius and I chuckle at Harry and Hermione's discomfort.

"Harry, Hermione," Remus says, "there's something I wanted to ask you about." The werewolf puts his arm around Harry and walks over to one corner of the room, Hermione following closely.

"Now, Mr. Lerner," Sirius says sternly. "We are going to have a chat, you and I, about that little pretend gender mix-up earlier."

"Ah, sorry about that, I just thought it would be—"

I'm cut off by Sirius' laughter. "Good show, William. Though you'll have to watch your back around me, now. Or your front."

Suddenly it seems drafty in here, and I look down to see my robes bulge obscenely at my chest. "What the—"

Sirius starts howling with laughter, drawing the attention of the other three occupants of the room.

"Nice rack, William!" Harry says.

Hermione actually doubles over in laughter, and I have to join in.

I give them a test squeeze and find mostly air, but I pretend like the bra underneath is far fuller. "Whoa, I agree, Harry. You wanna give them a squeeze? How about you, Hermione?"

She shakes her head vigorously, now once-again bushy hair flipping back and forth over her flushed face. So I start chasing her around the room with my obscene chest stuck out in front of me.

"Come on, just one little squeeze! It'll feel good, I promise—aww, you missed them!"

Sirius shudders. "Sorry to ruin your fun, William. I just have some bad memories of something too similar for comfort."

Remus howls with laughter. "You mean that time with those sisters and their aunt—"

"Stop talking now, please, thank you!" Sirius says quickly, and Harry, Hermione and I all laugh about it.

"Okay, okay, Harry, you guys don't want to be away from the castle too long. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Actually, William wanted to talk to you," Harry says, causing the other two to turn to me in surprise.

"Yes, well..." All traces of mirth fade from my face. "Both of you know that the wizard once known as Tom Riddle is not completely gone. Now, what has to happen for you to access the Gringotts vault of Bellatrix Lestrange?"

* * *

A/N:

I actually didn't expect to drop that information on Draco at all, but I thought it fit quite well. The ending of this story was starting to crystallize in my mind when I wrote this, so by then I had a number of notes written about it. So it was becoming much more clear what information I can and can't share with other characters.

I actually wrote the scene with Daphne's father early, while I was working on Chapter 10 or so. It actually stayed pretty well in tact, except for a change in venue that made more sense when Hermione made me realize what a stupid idea it would be for 'me' to meet Lord Greengrass in private.

Also, (sorry about|you're welcome for) the absence of obscenely long omakes this time.

R & R, C & C


	14. Chapter 14: An Early Yuletide Gift

Disclaimer: I once disguised myself as JK Rowling, but she didn't believe I was her alter ego who had come to give her a break from owning the rights to the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Fourteen: An Early Yuletide Gift**

"I still can't believe you asked them to do that, William," Hermione says as she and I sit in the Room of Requirement with Harry. "That has to be really dangerous, especially if what you said about the ring is true."

"It is," I agree.

She frowns. "Well, then, why did you do it?"

I sigh. "Sirius is uniquely suited to grab Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's Locket," I say. I was hoping that Sirius could do something as Head of the Black family and that Bellatrix was keeping it in her own vault instead of the Lestrange Vault. Sirius said he'd look into it, and I had to accept that. I didn't want to press further by asking if any of my fanfiction-gleaned knowledge would pan out. "I'm hoping that with the two of them there to grab the Gaunt family ring, they can stop each other from falling to whatever compulsion is placed on it."

"What about Professor Dumbledore? He might be better suited to getting the ring." If I didn't know what I know, I'd be tempted to agree with her on that.

I shake my head. "I'd be concerned Sirius and Remus might not be able to stop him if he's trapped in the compulsion. Honestly I'd trust Harry to retrieve the ring safely over Dumbledore."

Harry looks at me in surprise.

Hermione sighs. "I still don't understand why you don't bring him in on any of this. Dumbledore, I mean."

I close my eyes. "Do you trust me, Hermione?" I can feel her eyes on me but I refuse to open mine. I remember asking her something very similar shortly after we met, which she didn't answer then.

"Yes," she says quietly after a few moments.

"I've got some rough workings of a plan in my head for defeating Riddle once and for all. It involves both me and Harry, and you if you want in. Now tell me, what happens if Dumbledore finds out?"

"He wouldn't let any of us take part," she answers without hesitation.

I look over at Harry. "Is that okay with you, Harry, knowing what you know about the prophecy?"

"No," he says angrily.

"It's true that he would do everything in his power to keep you safe...including letting a great number of adults die," I say. "He will never think you're prepared to face him. In fact, it might just be impossible to be prepared for something like that, so in that sense he'd be correct. But we're going to do our damnedest to try to make you prepared."

"I don't want anybody else to die while I hide behind these walls," Harry says firmly. "That bastard has destroyed far too many families as it is."

"Harry..." Hermione says sadly.

"So that's why I don't want to risk it," I say. "The headmaster is too observant; as it is he's probably figured out that we're up to something. If our Horcrux hunt slips out it wouldn't be catastrophic, but..."

Hermione looks at me worriedly. "What are you planning, William?"

"I already told you in general terms: a way to beat Riddle once and for all. There are several pieces I'm missing, and perhaps the most important piece that I hope to find is a way to get this Horcrux safely out of Harry."

"So your miraculous body of foreknowledge doesn't cover that?" she asks half-jokingly.

I'm surprised by the question, and then I start laughing. "Actually I have heard some ideas, but I don't have much hope for them."

Now it's her turn to be surprised. "Really? Well, what are they? I haven't found a single clue in anything this Room as provided."

I try to avoid grinning at her but I don't entirely succeed. "Oh, I don't think you'd appreciate them all too much."

"Come on, William, you know I'd do anything!"

"_Anything_?" I ask pointedly.

She flinches. "I don't like the way you said that."

"Well it goes like this: creating a Horcrux is pretty much the ultimate expression of hate and selfishness," I say in lecture mode. "Riddle killed somebody in cold blood in order to split his soul and anchor it to this realm. So, logically, destroying such an artifact might require the exact opposite."

The blood drains from Hermione's face.

"What do you mean, William?" Harry asks, noting Hermione's lack of color.

"The ultimate expression of love and selflessness," I say slowly. "A willing joining of souls to eject the forcibly-attached one."

He scratches his head. "So...like a soul-mate or something?"

"There's no such thing as soul-mates," Hermione says with a shaky voice. "The whole idea that there is only one person out of six billion for you is completely ridiculous. That sort of thing only exists in trashy romance novels."

"I've heard it called a Soul Bond, but yes, that about covers it. And I agree, Hermione, that's why I said I don't hold out much hope for that actually working." Okay, some Soul Bond fics aren't all trashy romance, but the point is still valid.

"H-how would it work?" she asks in a small voice. Harry's eyes snap to her.

"Well, I wouldn't say it _would_ work since this is all conjecture...and poor conjecture at that. It might involve giving yourself over to the other person completely: in your heart, in your mind, and your body. Physically speaking, sometimes it's just a kiss, other times..." I leave the rest unsaid.

"It's...it's fine, Hermione," Harry says in a shaky voice. "If neither you nor William think it'll work..."

"I-I just don't know, Harry," Hermione says. "Logically the equal but opposite thing makes sense, but—"

"Well come to think of it, it might not require something out of a trashy romance novel," I say, rubbing my chin. "After all, giving yourselves over to each other completely doesn't require anything but love in the first place. It doesn't mean your souls are destined for one another or anything ridiculous and irrational like that. I believe I've heard of one ritual that simply requires you to continually trace runes of protection and cleansing on his body while you're making love, which makes more sense to me."

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Hermione asks, looking beyond pale – more like sick – now.

"Ah, I suppose now is not a good time to mention the harem method—um, Hermione, should you have the Room conjure a bucket or something?" I chuckle at the two of them. If Harry's eyes get any wider they're going to fall out of his head.

After a few moments of their intense discomfort, I figure I should say something to take their minds off it. "Uh...maybe instead of my conjecturing we should actually contact some experts? Ron's brother Bill is a cursebreaker, right? Maybe he knows something."

"Maybe," Hermione says hopefully. "Although, Bill's been spending time in Egyptian tombs, whereas Herpo the Foul from Greece was supposedly the first one to create a Horcrux – that's one of the only pieces of information about them I've found here. Egyptian tombs have been around far longer."

"Well it could be that that's not accurate," I point out. "It could have been discovered independently in Egypt far sooner, even if records of it didn't survive."

"That's true, although you'd think we'd get updated information if cursebreakers ever found one older..." Hermione says with a frown.

Harry stands up quickly. "Yes, that sounds good, let's do that." He pulls out the Marauders' Map. "Now, let's go find...hey!"

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asks.

"It looks like Ron has come to us, along with Neville and Luna! Can you open the door in the normal entrance location?"

The wall soon grinds and groans into a door. Seeing it form from the wall like that is still an extremely odd and uncomfortable experience, like my eyes are lying to me. I usually only watch for a short time before I look away. Neville pulls the newly formed entrance open and soon we number three more.

"You're going to have to teach me what you ask for, Hermione," Luna says in her sing-song voice. "I guessed wrong thirty-six and a half times."

"Oh...sorry, Luna," Hermione says, clearly fighting her curiosity about how Luna figured she was half-wrong once. "Remind me in a bit. We were actually just coming to find you, Ron."

"Oh, really?" Ron says, looking thoroughly surprised. "Well I'm just here because Neville was looking for you guys, too, and he brought us along. That works out, doesn't it?"

"It's a good thing we came back and tried this place again. When we realized we couldn't open the Room this time, we figured you must be in it," Luna says with a smile.

"This time," Hermione asks. "So you were — ?"

"Damn, sorry guys," I say with an apologetic frown. "I had to run to Hogsmeade and I roped these two into it." At Ron's pained expression I quickly apologize. "Sorry, Ron, Harry went under his Cloak and Hermione and I went in disguise as boyfriend and girlfriend. I went to meet Daphne's father at his request, and I didn't want to attract too much attention."

"Oh." Damn, that didn't help at all.

Neville clears his throat. "Anyway, William, I wanted to bring you this as soon as possible."

Only then do I notice Neville holding a large, wrapped box. "What's this?" I ask dumbly.

"Well, it's my Christmas present for you," Neville says with a blush. "Only it makes far more sense for you to get it as soon as possible, and it was delivered to me at lunch."

"Wow, thanks, Neville!" I'm horrible at receiving presents. My voice always sounds fake even when I really do appreciate the gift.

"Well come on then, open it, already!" Hermione says impatiently, suppressing a smile.

"Okay," I say with a grin. I carefully open the paper to avoid tearing it too much, but Hermione has other plans.

"Oh come on!" She grabs and fistful of the wrapping and rips into it.

"Well, somebody's impatient," I say, laughing. In short order what appears to be a large clothing box is sitting in front of me. I figure it's another set of school robes since I had to borrow his, but when I open the box and move the tissue paper, the clothing within is far too fine to be school robes.

My breath catches. Dress robes!

"It's less formal than most," Neville says nervously. "So I figured you could wear pieces of it outside of the Ball. Hermione said you like practical things, and this way you can go to the Ball, too. The shoes are less formal, too...I took the size from your current ones, I hope that's still good."

He's right, the pants and overcoat wouldn't look out of place over my uniform. "Neville, you didn't...this is too much..."

He waves the objection away. "It was the least I could do, William, after all you've done for me this year."

"But I haven't—ow!"

"I think the words you're looking for are 'thank you,'" Hermione whispers.

I rub my arm and shoot a mock glare at her. "Thank you, Neville, this is...this is amazing."

He beams. "I'm glad you like them."

"Now we have to find you a date!" Hermione squeals, hugging me and then Neville.

I can feel the blood drain from my face, eliciting laughter from most of those present.

"Come on, now, William, it can't be that scary," Hermione chides. "We've all got dates..."

Ron makes an involuntary sound, then turns red and shuffles uncomfortably.

Hermione looks at him in surprise. "Ron, you never asked anybody?"

"Well, I thought I'd hang out with William," he says hotly.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we've got six days to find two attractive, kind, unaccompanied girls," Hermione says in her taskmaster voice. "Luna, can you ask around Ravenclaw?" The small blonde blinks in response. "Good. The rest of us will head to the Gryffindor common room. Let's go!"

"Geez, slavedriver," I mutter. Since I have my face turned away from her to try and hide my comment I completely miss the weak stinging hex she tosses over her shoulder, which hits me right in the cheek.

* * *

"Oh, this is one of my lighter punishments...you should see my shoulder," I say in a chipper voice just to tease Hermione. "I think there's a permanent bruise there."

"I said I was sorry!" she whines.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for someone who was into that, William." Luna says, head tilted slightly to one side. I've learned that the tilt of her head is a more accurate indicator of her tone than her actual voice. So far this particular angle has consistently corresponded to mild curiosity and surprise. Well, either that or wanton lust, but I may have misunderstood that particular comment.

"Oh yes, she has known about it for some time now," I say, maintaining the tone. "That is undoubtedly the reason she graciously awarded me with such a visible mark of my devotion."

Hermione glares at me for not accepting her apology. "Shall we see if you still crumple in such a way that you break your nose when you get hit with a Stunner?"

"Wow, she's violent," Ron whispers.

"Oh yes, she is a great and kind mistress," I say, nodding sagely.

"Remind me to introduce you to a House Elf I know," Harry says.

I chuckle along with him, but it trails off after a moment. "Huh, I guess I do sound a bit like Dobby."

"You know about—?" Harry starts, then smacks his forehead. "Oh, of course you do."

"Of course," I say with a smile. "He's here at the castle working for Dumbledore, isn't he?"

"_What_?" Harry and Hermione say in unison.

Oops. "Uh...yeah...at least I'm pretty sure he is. Why don't you call his name, Harry? He'd probably come to you."

"Dobby?"

A small pop in front of Harry signals the House Elf's arrival. "Master Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is so happy Harry Potter called, sir! The headmaster told Dobby that Hogwarts Elves must stay away from students unless they is called, even though Dobby so wanted to help Harry Potter." Finally the wide-eyed Dobby notices the rest of the students and begins to look afraid.

"It's okay, Dobby, we're all Harry's friends," Hermione says with a reassuring smile. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Dobby is overwhelmed with emotion as the rest of us introduce ourselves and shake his hand. For some reason I'm feeling nervous, but I introduce myself as well. His hand is cold, clammy, and seems fragile because it's so small. Suddenly he jerks his hand away.

"William is Harry Potter's friend, sir? But William is not a wizard. What is William doing at Hogwarts, sir?"

My face burns.

"Of course he's a wizard, Dobby!" Harry says indignantly. The House Elf flinches and cowers as if waiting to be punished, so Harry huffs and softens his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you, Dobby, you don't have to do that."

I kneel down in front of the poor creature and speak quietly enough so that only Dobby can hear. "Do you...do you know what I am, Dobby?"

Dobby looks frightened, glancing at Harry surreptitiously. He shakes his head vigorously. "Dobby feels the magic in Harry Potter's Lerny, sir, but it is not wizard's magic. Dobby does not know what it is, sir."

I let out a breath. "Me neither. Could it be House Elf magic?"

Dobby's eyes bulge even larger. "You don't know either? It smells like both House Elf magic and wizard magic, but it is neither, sir."

I consider asking if Dobby can try to teach me, but I decide to save that question for later. It would be awesome fun if I could Apparate around Hogwarts. "Can you keep this a secret, Dobby? I'm here to help Harry, and I don't want anybody to find out and make me go away. Please?"

"Of course, Harry Potter's Lerny, sir! Anything to help the Great Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaks that out loud enough that everyone can hear.

I almost frown when it occurs to me that just about anybody could say that and Dobby would help them, unless he can somehow sense my truthfulness. "I may take you up on that offer to do anything to help him, Dobby. It was a pleasure meeting you."

Dobby is nearly in tears by the time we all say our goodbyes and he gives Harry a promise to help if he calls the House Elf's name. With a snap of his fingers, Dobby pops away.

Our trip to the Gryffindor common room resumes in uncomfortable silence. I feel like I'm sweating as much as I do during our morning runs. A part of me hopes nobody brings this up again, but I know that's unlikely. Another part of me is fully expecting to be pushed away again. I suppose I can still execute my plans with only Daphne, and I believe Sirius and Remus will continue to help unless Harry tells them to stop. Will Harry still believe me about all the things I've told him? Maybe Luna will still help since she wasn't here.

Ron, however, is not one to abide silence. "Bit nutters, isn't he?"

Harry and Hermione share a look, then both turn to look at me. I look away.

"It's Dobby," Harry says noncommittally.

I don't look at anybody else's reaction to that. We reach the common room a short time later, and Hermione quietly gives the password. Our usual spot is open, but I hesitate. "Uh, I'm going to go check on something..." Incredibly lame, but I'm not feeling too clever at the moment. Then I realize I'm still holding my box of clothing. "Uh, and I have to take this up." Without waiting for a reply, I walk briskly to the stairs to the boys dormitories. I'm almost there when a completely unexpected stinging sensation makes me yelp and clap a hand to my backside.

I spin around to see Hermione stalking up to me. She grabs a fistful of clothing and pulls my head down. "I don't care what Dobby said. You're my best friend, and you're not going anywhere. Now, go check on your something and get back down here so we can find you a date for the Yule Ball. And if we don't find you one, you're coming stag and dancing with me whether you like it or not."

I give her a small but grateful smile. "Teach me how to dance and it's a deal."

"It's a deal, then." She smiles back and pushes me back so I'm standing straight up, then wraps her arms around me with a sigh of relief. "You're not alone, William," she whispers.

* * *

"So is it going to stay up there?" Harry's voice breaks me from my thoughts.

Lifting my head off of the bed, I look at him in a bit of a daze. "Huh?"

"The ceiling," he says gesturing up to it. "You said you were going to check on something and apparently you're checking on the ceiling. So are we still good to sleep in here?"

I let out a weak chuckle. "Looks good so far, but I'll have to keep an eye on it."

"Plenty of time for that later," he says, waving the thought away. "Ron's got a date now, so you're already missing out."

I'm surprised he worked up the nerve to ask somebody. "Really? Who'd he ask?"

"Come on, we'll talk about it downstairs," Harry says. I sit up, but he makes no move to leave. "I heard what you told Hermione...that night I found out about the dragons. The way you showed up here...well, it makes some kind of sense that you're not a wizard. But I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me. To us." He looks at me seriously throughout, but now he grins. "Honestly, you're bizarre enough that we should have figured that out a while ago."

I grin back. "Thanks, Harry."

"I must confess I am a little jealous," he says. "Hermione figured out something else that makes sense: your wandless magic doesn't seem to be limited to our spells. The things you do with lights and sounds – not to mention that spell you used to melt the dummy at the beginning of the year – that's not the same magic we know."

I'm stunned. "I...can't believe I never thought of it that way." Why bother casting the privacy charm with the buzzing sound when I should just be able to make it without? "This shall require testing."

"Hold on," he says, holding up a hand as if to stop me, "we have to find you a date first."

"No way," I argue, "this is more important!" Already my mind is setting up and throwing away various experiments that are hopefully not as draining as my fake ritual.

"If you say so," he says with a shrug, then he smiles. "I wonder what Hermione will say."

"Hmm, date for the dance..." I say, holding one hand up, then I move up the other. "...or unprecedented opportunity to study magic as nobody has before."

"Well, she is a girl," he says, scratching his head. "But yeah, that could be a close one. Depends on how well you sell it."

"Do you think I should make charts?"

He laughs. "Let's find out. Glad to hear you're feeling better, by the way."

"I am," I say, nodding firmly. "I'm looking forward to making up some more awesome but fake rituals that scare the pants off of Hermione."

"I don't think she'd appreciate you making jokes about her pants coming off," he says with a grin.

I laugh at that. Yeah, my humor really is rubbing off on him. "Oh ho! Good call. That's exactly what I'll do."

"Masochist," he says quietly as we exit the stairwell.

"Feeling better?" Hermione asks as we sit.

"Oh yes, Harry and I were just talking about your—ow! C'mon, both of you?" I rub my shoulder and mock glare at Harry for punching it.

Hermione chuckles. "What did he do this time, Harry?"

"William made a joke about scaring your pants off earlier this year with his fake ritual thing," he says, fighting a smile. "You can imagine where that line of thought went."

"Harry, I think you just admitted you were thinking about it, too," I point out.

"Moving on," Hermione says quickly, trying to cough to cover the blush that she now shares with Harry. "Look, Ron has a date."

I turn in the direction she indicates to find that Ron and Parvati are walking in our direction. Parvati is looking up at him, but the redness in his cheeks and stiff posture indicate he's decidedly uncomfortable.

I turn back to Hermione with my mouth open in shock. "He got a date with _Parvati_? She's smokin' hot, how the hell did no one ask her earlier?"

"Uh, William, you said that kinda loud," Neville says, embarrassed for me.

I grin. "Oops, did I?" I turn my grin back into a look of shock and turn back around. Sure enough both Parvati and Ron are looking at me; the former with a blush and the latter with a taunting grin. I stand up and start toward them. "Ron, you lucky son of a—oh! My sincerest apologies, Ms. Patil, I didn't mean to be rude. I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is William Lerner, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." I bow and kiss her hand, where I catch a whiff of her spicy perfume.

"Hey, no stealing dates!" Ron says.

"Why Ronald, as if I would do that to one of my friends," I chide. "I only wished to inquire if your date happened to have an equally attractive and equally unescorted sibling who I might ask."

I can practically hear Hermione's eye roll. "William, we sit next to her twin in Arithmancy almost every class."

"Well she might already have a date," I point out reasonably. "I didn't want to limit my options."

"I don't know if Padma has a date or not," Parvati says. "I can ask her."

I grin. "Will she let me kiss her hand, too? If so, I can handle the introductions and the asking."

She shoots me a questioning look. "I thought you already knew her?"

"Damn, you're right. Well, maybe I can still slip one in anyway. Since you didn't say no, I'll let her know you thought it would be okay. Thanks, Parvati! See you guys!" I give them a wave and turn toward the portrait.

"Wait, William," Hermione calls, "where are you going?"

I turn back. "I'm going to see if Padma needs a date, obviously."

"Alone? And we haven't gone through the Gryffindors yet."

I shrug. "If we Gryffindors are foolish enough to let someone as gorgeous as Parvati go this long, maybe the 'Claws did the same. If she's unavailable, there's a Slytherin girl I want to check on."

"Daphne already has a date," Hermione says, eyebrow raised.

"Not her," I say with a grin.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Harry says, jumping up.

I shrug again. "I can handle it. You can come if you like, but if I end up in the Slytherin dungeons, a pride of Harry Potter's Gryffindors might start a battle."

"I agree, Harry's out," Hermione says.

"I'll come," Parvati jumps in. "I want to see my sister's f—er, I mean I want to see my sister."

"You sure? I might pop down to the dungeons anyway," I warn.

She shrugs. "No problem."

"I'll come, too," Ron says, looking like he'd rather do anything but.

"William's not going to steal your date, Ronald," Hermione says, rolling her eyes. Then she looks at me seriously. "Will you be okay? You won't antagonize a dozen Slytherins this time?"

Parvati and Ron's eyes bug out of their heads, and I laugh. "It was only eight or nine, and they started it. Besides, Harry and I just figured something out, and I can scare them away with my Ultima demi-flare."

"William Adalbert Lerner, don't you even—!"

I laugh. "Hey, I like that one! And I'm mostly kidding about that last part, I assure you."

"William..." she warns.

"Okay, okay," I say, holding my hands up in surrender, "no lethal bars of superheated plasma turning Slytherins to slag, I promise."

"Er, slag has a different meaning here, William," Hermione says.

"Oh...oh!" I laugh. I remember one fic that used that term fairly often now. "Well, I won't turn them into those either."

We fall silent for a moment, in which Harry frowns and Hermione bites her lip, looking back and forth between him and me.

"We'll be fine, Hermione," I say softly. "It's not like we'll be going all over the _map_."

Understanding dawns in her eyes. "Right." She looks at Parvati. "Do keep him out of trouble, will you?"

"Who, me?" I ask, grinning. "I'm no Harry Potter, you know. Kidding, Harry!" I add quickly when he's about to protest. "Well, we're off then."

"Wait, I'm going." Neville says, standing.

I smile. "Yes, I suppose we'll see Luna." He blushes furiously so I give him a break. "Very well. Ms. Patil, would you like to bring anybody?"

Shortly afterward I find myself in the rather unusual company of Neville, Lavender, and Parvati, heading down the steps just outside the portrait hole on our way to Ravenclaw Tower. The better-looking half, however, walk behind us to giggle and gossip excitedly. I tune them out almost as soon as they start.

"So, Neville," I say. "Do you, uh, know the best way to get there?"

He frowns. "I know _a_ way to get there. Come to think of it, it's probably not the best way from Gryffindor common room."

"Pardon me, Ms. Patil, do you know the best way to Ravenclaw Tower? I know a way from the Great Hall, but I imagine there's a more optimal route from here." Really I just know the way from the seventh floor corridor, but that would sound weird.

For some reason Lavender finds my question giggle-worthy.

"Well I don't know about any secret passages, but we can follow the third floor corridor past McGonagall's office, then around the quad and up to the fifth floor entrance."

"Thanks," I say with a nod, and then I grin as I decide to engage them in conversation. "Say, Parvati, which approach do you think Padma will appreciate when I ask her: the charming rogue or the chivalrous gentleman?"

"Which one are you better at?" Parvati asks while Lavender giggles again.

"Well I'm best at inappropriate scoundrel, but I only use that on Slytherins," I say. "Judging by how popular Malfoy is, they like that sort of thing."

The olive-skinned girl hides her smile, though her dark brown eyes give away her amusement. "Is that your natural behavior then?"

"It is," I say with a grin. "Despite walking in front of you both, I've already stolen twenty-three more inappropriate glances at the pair of you than Neville has."

Lavender finally looks shocked but now it's Parvati's turn to giggle. "To be honest I think you'll have to be a bit more boring and bookish. Of course if she doesn't have a date, the fact that you're asking her will probably mean she'll say yes."

"Hmm, that sounds quite promising," I say, rubbing my chin. "Do you think she'd let me kiss her on the cheek, then? Without slapping me afterward, I mean."

"You never know," she says, eyes twinkling.

"So how many glances have you stolen?" Lavender asks.

"Twenty-three when I asked you that question. I'm up to twenty-six now. How about you, Ms. Brown?"

"I am a lady, thank you very much!" she says with feigned indignation. I just grin in reply. "You are a scoundrel," she says in a huff.

"Yes, an inappropriate one, at that," I say unabashedly.

"So what makes you think you're good enough for my sister, then?" Parvati asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not. But alas, there are simply too few Neville Longbottoms in this world to go around." I clap the blushing boy on the shoulder.

Neville barks out a laugh. "Yeah, right."

"It's true," I insist. "You haven't stolen a single glance at these gorgeous girls behind us, and I'm on track to hit triple digits by the time we get back to the common room."

"I thought you and Hermione were together," Lavender blurts out, "er, maybe, for a while..."

I smile, but I realize whatever I say on that front is bound to reach the entire school. Rumors about a love triangle between me, Harry, and Hermione would be all over the place. I settle for, "no, I'm definitely not good enough for her."

"Because of Harry?" Her voice is soft but somehow still eager.

My smile fades and I let the question linger for a moment. "There aren't enough Harry Potters in this world, either," I say. That silences the whole group for several moments.

"I don't think inappropriate scoundrel is your natural state," Parvati says quietly.

We walk in silence several moments longer, as the cheeriness from the playful banter fades completely. "Thanks," I say back.

In a short time we reach what the eagle-shaped bronze knocker guarding the Ravenclaw common room, and it recites today's riddle in an almost bored tone.

_I am heavy but weightless,  
You must share me for relief.  
Kept from enemies I'm valued,  
Kept from friends I bring grief.  
What am I?_

"A secret," I say, then let my voice drop to a mutter. "How appropriate."

"You are not Eagles," it says, suddenly taking in our appearance.

"That would be a good riddle," I say, "why is the _Raven_claw mascot an eagle and the _Gryffin_dor mascot a lion?"

"We are not our namesakes," the knocker replies smoothly.

I cock my head back in surprise. "Wow, that's way better than, 'because Salazar played a prank on them.' That's what I was going to guess."

Surprisingly, wizarding door knockers can scoff. "Even if you were wearing Ravenclaw robes I would have seen through you from that answer."

I let out an amused breath. "Clearly, sarcasm was not included in your enchantment."

"Clearly," it says, further proving my point.

"Right," I drawl. "So are you going to let us in, or can you pass a message to have someone meet us out here?"

"I am sorry, young Lion," it says, "only Ravenclaws and professors may pass."

"So why do we have riddles and passwords and such, if you can simply recognize those who may enter?"

"We use riddles to keep our Eagles sharp," it says immediately. "I would not bother looking for logic in what other Houses do."

"Fair enough," I say idly, thinking of a solution to this issue. "So, on an average Saturday evening, how long would a visitor have to wait before encountering somebody either arriving or departing?"

"I suspect it will be less than ten minutes," it says.

"You only suspect? So are you unable to compile statistics of previous Saturday evenings?"

"That ability was not imparted upon my enchantment," it says evenly. "Ten minutes is merely an estimation based on the amount of time since I last permitted entry."

An obvious solution strikes me. "Is the door enchanted such that actually knocking is inaudible from the other side?"

"I am not a functional knocker."

"What about knocking with a fist?"

"That..." it says seriously, "would be most unwise."

I look back at my companions, all of whom are looking at me strangely. "Is anybody else tempted beside me?"

Parvati snorts but Neville and Lavender shake their heads. That probably has something to do with the odd conversation I'm having with a door knocker.

I sigh and turn back to the door. "I suppose the door is enchanted such that simply yelling at the top of my lungs won't accomplish much, will it?"

"It will not," it replies honestly.

"So do you know everybody that passes through these doors, or do you simply look for Ravenclaw robes?"

"I recognize all four of you now, so you will not be permitted entry even with Ravenclaw robes on."

"Damn. What if I am disguised – either through glamour or potion – as one of your eagles and I answer your riddle correctly?"

"I suppose I would not be able to tell the difference," it admits.

"So if we walked around the corner...?"

"If you come back a minute after you leave, I think I will have figured it out."

"I see." That could be a fun prank, disguising myself as a Ravenclaw in Gryffindor robes and then using that to deny somebody entry. "Hmm, do you have a way to communicate with Professor Flitwick?"

"I do not."

"That seems like a poor design decision," I say with a frown. "It seems to me you should have a way to alert the Head of House should someone attempt to break in. I'm sure a sufficiently powerful Reductor would permit entry."

"That would also be most unwise," it says slowly.

"Do you reflect it back the caster? What about the wall next to you?"

"I cannot disclose the specifics of the enchantments guarding the Ravenclaw common room."

"Indeed? What do you say we test that out?" I hold my wand out to maintain my wandless secret and conjure a ball of red light as close as possible to the color of the Reductor Curse, as close as possible to the end of the wand. Before it even grows beyond the size of a golf ball, the portrait opens and I quickly squash the light. "Ah ha! So you do allow someone inside to monitor the entrance!"

"Actually, I was on my way out," a rich, deep voice intones from the other side of the door. The door opens the rest of the way to reveal a tall, richly-dressed, clean-shaven man with brown hair swept elegantly to one side. "May I help you?"

"Yes, sir, I was hoping to speak to Ms. Luna Lovegood and Ms. Padma Patil, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, sir. Give me a moment to fetch them. My name is Roger Davies, by the way."

"William Lerner," I say with a short bow. "I thank you for your assistance, Mr. Davies." As he closes the door I turn around to find Parvati and Lavender giggling at each other. "Oh good, you two are still with me," I say with a grin. "I thought we'd have to revive you."

"That's Roger Davies," Lavender repeats unhelpfully, "he's going with Fleur Delacour to the Ball!"

"Poor guy," I say, "I hope he's resistant to the Veela aura...I don't think Ms. Delacour has hers entirely under control yet. Well, either that or she actually likes to try to make all the males drool."

"How do you know all that?" Parvati asks wide-eyed. "Are you resistant?"

I shrug, choosing not to answer the first question. "I think not. Or at least not as resistant as Harry. He could probably reject a full-blooded Veela, let alone a quarter-Veela like Ms. Delacour."

"William, you're doing it again," Neville says, "freaking everybody out with knowledge you shouldn't have. I've never seen you speak with her."

I laugh. "Just wait until you see what she's going to wear for the Second Task." I laugh harder as Neville's eyes bulge. I figure that's a safe comment since he knows it's going to be underwater.

Right on cue the door opens back up to reveal Roger and a hint of the two witches behind him.

"My sincerest thanks, Mr. Davies," I say with a slight bow. "I'm sorry to have kept you from your errand."

"It was no trouble at all, Mr. Lerner; it is my duty as a Prefect and a pleasure," he says in a still warm voice. "Good day, gentlemen. Ladies." I decide I actually like that guy.

For some reason the two girls behind me also found that giggle-worthy, but Roger simply inclines his head and smiles at them as he walks away, cloak billowing behind him.

"Hello, Neville, William" Luna says, smiling.

"Hello, Luna," I say, slipping an arm behind her and squeezing her into my side. "Sorry about Hermione earlier; I didn't know she was going to ask you to do that."

"It's okay," she says, then glances over at Padma and seems to understand what's about to happen. Luna opens her mouth to say something but I jump in first.

"Hello, Ms. Patil. Your sister recently found an escort to the Ball next week, and I was completely flabbergasted that such a beautiful woman had not yet been asked. When she indicated you might still be available I came as soon as I could. Would you do me the honor of attending the Ball with me?"

Padma's eyes widen and she looks over my shoulder toward Parvati and Lavender, but I don't turn around. She cocks her head back at whatever they do, then looks at me with a frown. Damn. "I-I'm sorry, I just...I mean..."

"Blast! I knew Ravenclaws are smarter than Gryffindors, but I hoped...well, no matter. He's a lucky guy. Well, I must be off to ask my second choice. See you around! Would you like to come along, Luna? I'm hoping to reach the Slytherin common room before dinner." I speak quickly and then spin around to head back down the spiral staircase without waiting for a reply. After several steps I look up to see both Luna and Padma joining us. Then something occurs to me that probably should have done so before now. "Uh, does anyone know where the Slytherin common room is?"

Luna giggles at me.

"By the way, Luna, I had a most enlightening conversation with your door knocker just now..."

* * *

A/N:

Gah, Dobby speech might even be more annoying to write than Hagrid speech.

I meant to get to the Slytherin common room by the end of the chapter, but the conversation with the door knocker sort of took off.

R & R, C & C


	15. Chapter 15: Finding Myself a Date

Disclaimer: I have a semi-sentient bronze bust of JK Rowling in my office, but apparently I was mislead about its authority over copyright transfer issues.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Fifteen: Finding a Date**

"...therefore, having a portrait is far superior to an enchanted door-knocker, even if the other Houses waste their potential," I finish with gusto. It takes almost the entire walk to the Slytherin common room to describe both my conversation and my observations about the advantages and disadvantages of the two methods of entry protection.

Luna tilts her head but doesn't look at me. "Hmm, yes, I see your point," she says slowly, then her slate gray eyes widen and snap to mine. "Please don't tell Fred I told you that."

I look at her strangely. "Why would he? And what about George?"

"Oh no, not Fred Weasley," she says as if speaking to a child. "I mean FRED, the Friendly Ravenclaw Eagle Doorknocker."

"That's his name?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. She doesn't seem to mind me calling her that. Of course she doesn't respond to it at all, either."

"Oh," I say, ignoring the fact that she's implying FRED is female despite both the obviously male-sounding voice and obviously male-sounding name that she herself gave it.

"What's this?" A high, cruel, female voice says from a large portrait. The elegantly dressed woman with a shock of white amidst her tightly-coiffed dark hair stands proudly in front of us, staring down her nose. "Not a single Slytherin among you?"

"My apologies, milady," I say with a short bow. "Do you have the ability to pass a message to someone inside?"

"Not for the likes of you, _Gryffindor_," she says with a sneer.

"Very well, I shall keep you company until one of your students comes along," I say with a lopsided smile. "I do hope it does not take too long...for your sake, I mean. I, on the other hand, do not mind spending time in the company of such beauty and grace."

Her eyes narrow, and it occurs to me if she was real I would probably be cowering. "What would a _child_ know of such things?"

My smile turns wicked and my voice drops low. "If you were corporeal, I would show you. A woman like you might make it to Step Twenty."

She has just enough time to look shocked before her portrait swings open, revealing an older student I don't recognize. He stares at me dumbly. Wonderful.

"Hello, sir, I would like to speak with Mr. Zabini if you please," I say formally.

He does not respond.

"I do menial labor for his father, you see. If you would tell him that his father's Gryffindor landscaper wishes to speak with him, I would appreciate it."

Without speaking he turns around and shuts the portrait, who immediately starts yelling at me. Before she gets an entire threat on my life out I cast a privacy charm and all external noise fades to a muted buzz.

"Why'd you ask for Zabini?" Neville asks, perplexed.

I grin and am about to answer when I notice Lavender, Parvati, and Padma appear to be nervously looking around for the source of the white noise. "Sorry, ladies, that's my privacy charm doing the buzzing...the old bat here was going to start giving me a headache," I say jerking my thumb over my shoulder. "To answer your question, Neville, I didn't ask for Mr. Zabini at all. Blaise will pass my message to the appropriate party."

"Clever," Luna says.

I smile. "It seemed like something a Slytherin might do."

"What was that you said to the woman that made her so angry?" Lavender asks.

"William implied he would use some sort of sexual technique on her to show her what he knows of beauty and grace," Luna says, still smiling. "Some technique with at least twenty steps, apparently."

"The Thirty-Seven Steps to Female Ecstasy, to be precise," I say with a grin. I enjoy the sight of blood rushing to faces. Even Luna blushes slightly. "Very few women make it past step twenty."

"H-how would you—?" Lavender asks.

"Why, Ms. Brown, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," I interrupt smoothly. The portrait swings open, and Daphne, Blaise, and Tracey step out. "Speaking of kissing..." I drop the privacy charm.

"—doing here, Lerner?" Blaise finishes.

"My apologies, Mr. Zabini," I say with an apologetic bow. "I hope my request did not inconvenience you overmuch."

Daphne rolls her eyes at my continued over-the-top formality while he scoffs. "He didn't recognize you since you aren't with Potter."

"I'll be fine, Blaise, Tracey, you can go back," Daphne says firmly.

He and Daphne seem to have a staring match, but he eventually acquiesces and disappears while Tracey remains.

"You don't have to—" Daphne begins, but I cut her off.

"Actually, she's okay, I wanted to tell you that, thanks to this fine gentleman right here," I say, clapping Neville on the shoulder, "I have dress robes for the Ball as of about two hours ago."

Her eyes snap back to me, but she makes no readable expression. "I already have a date."

"Congratulations," I say with a smile, "of course I expected no less. And you rather publicly rejected my previous invitation, if I recall." I ignore the gasps behind me. "Actually, I was wondering if perhaps a particular young lady was staying here for the holidays and might still be available. I think you know her; her name is Astoria—"

"No!" Daphne exclaims, eyes flashing dangerously.

I frown. "Does she already have a date, then?"

"No."

"Then she is going home?"

"No."

"May I speak with her?"

"No."

I look directly into her ice-blue eyes. "I would treat her as my own sister."

She stares back, lips pressed into a thin line for several tense moments before saying anything. "You will not involve her in..."

"No," I say, holding her gaze. "I will not."

She breaks eye contact and looks down. "The answer is still no."

"Are you quite finished deciding her future for her?" I ask softly, eyebrow raised.

Her eyes flash at having her words turned back on her.

"Let me speak to her," I say more softly. "She has had a year and a half in Slytherin, has she not? Tell her I'm a Muggle-born Gryffindor and we'll see where the conversation goes."

Her ice-blue eyes turn back to bore into mine.

"Daph..." Tracey says.

"Fine," Daphne says suddenly, spinning around until Tracey stops her.

"Wait, I'll get her," the other girl says, disappearing into the common room.

Daphne turns back to me slowly. "How did you know about my sister?"

I grin.

She sighs, making her more relaxed than she had been since exiting the portrait. "Of course."

"You don't think I'll cause any trouble for her, do you? If she decides to go with me, that is." I frown slightly at the thought.

Daphne returns my look with an unreadable expression. "Maybe at first. Nothing she can't handle." She pauses and presses her lips together again, but this time in a hesitant manner. "The fourth years are shaken by what you said to Draco when we all caught you alone, by the way."

"You really did—?" Parvati says, eyes bulging.

I grin back at her.

"You _told_ her?" Daphne asks, anger creeping back into her voice.

"She doesn't know the content of our conversation," I say, waving away the question. "And she only knows that much because Hermione warned me not to antagonize you guys this time. She and Harry are the only ones that weren't there that know what happened fully, and that's because they already knew." I meet her eyes so she can do whatever she does to see that I'm telling the truth, and eventually she gives a small nod. "So can we expect a bit more introspection on their part?" I ask.

She snorts and looks away, apparently satisfied that I'm telling the truth. "Hardly. Draco has barely said a word, though, and it's left most of his minions confused."

"It's nice to know that Mr. Malfoy isn't as stupid as the rest of the school thinks he is."

She looks surprised. "Isn't admitting something like that sacrilege for a Gryffindor?"

I chuckle. "Perhaps it is. Although, if we're sticking to stereotypes, then the only conversation you and I would be sharing would be in bastardized Latin with a pair of sticks dancing between us."

"I wouldn't mind sharing one of those conversations with you sometime," Daphne says with a feral grin.

"You're so sweet," I say, grinning back. "I would mind, though...you'd kick my ass."

She harrumphs. "As long as you remember that."

"Did he use the Thirty-Seven Steps on you?" Lavender blurts out.

"What?" Daphne asks, arching an eyebrow.

"I'll show you later," I say to her, then shoot a grin back behind me.

Tracey appears at the door with a smaller version of Daphne in tow. Her eyes are a darker, almost violet color, but they're the same shape and sport the same wary expression as her sister's. She also has a bit of the baby fat that Daphne had obviously dropped by now. "Daph, what's going on?"

The older sister turns to the younger. "My friend William here wants to ask you something."

Astoria's eyes widen as she takes in my appearance. "Your friend...a _Gryffindor_?"

I bend over and hide my mouth with my hand like I'm telling her a secret. "And a Muggle-born one at that...don't tell anybody." Then I stand and speak louder, offering my hand. "William Lerner, it's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Greengrass."

She takes it hesitantly as her eyes jump back and forth between me and Daphne, then the rest of the people around. "What's going on?" she asks, a bit of worry evident in her voice.

"Well, I just won a bet, you see," I say with a smile. "My good friend Neville here didn't believe me when I told him the two prettiest girls in the entire school were both in Slytherin."

"Lerner," Daphne growls, the slight pink on her cheeks ruin the effect.

"It's true," I insist, holding my hands up. "He said that even though you're Daphne's sister, you couldn't possibly measure up to a part-Veela Triwizard Champion, even if Ms. Delacour _is_ a distant second to Daphne. And I said wanna bet? And he said you're on! And then I said—"

"Don't make me change my mind, Lerner," Daphne warns.

"Don't worry, Ms. Greengrass the younger," I say conspiratorially, hiding my mouth in a stage whisper, "she's just upset because we may have to re-evaluate just who is number one now." Astoria, cheeks pink, looks like she's stifling laughter.

Daphne pulls her wand and points it at my face.

"Okay, okay," I submit with a laugh. "What I really wanted to ask, Ms. Greengrass, is if you'd do me the honor...nay, if you'd allow me the great pleasure of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?" My invitation is quite purposely over the top, and Daphne rolls her eyes.

Astoria's mouth drops open. It's really cute because she isn't nearly as composed as her sister, so she's blushing quite adorably by now. She looks to her sister, who sighs heavily as she puts away her wand.

"It's up to you," she says slowly. "_Somehow_ he made a good impression on our father, so I know he wouldn't mind."

"My _dad_ likes you? A _Muggle-born Gryffindor_?" She asks incredulously. "How did you even..." she trails off.

"Must have been magic," I say with a smile. "So, what do you say?"

She gulps. "I-I dunno..."

"Oh, Ms. Greengrass, you've your sister's cruel gift of splitting my very heart in twain! Would that I—"

"_Silencio!_" A white light jumps out of Daphne's quickly drawn wand and hits me in the throat, cutting off my monologue.

I silently, wandlessly undo the charm and laugh. "That wasn't very nice, Daphne. Sheesh, can't a guy express his heartbroken lament around here?" Everybody is staring at me now. "What?"

"You-you can't do that!" Lavender stammers.

"Oops! Sorry, I'll put it back on." I cast the Silencing Charm on myself, and then mouth, "is that better?"

Astoria giggles. "Is he always this odd?"

Daphne shakes her head and says, "No, usually he's worse." A smile tugs at her lips.

Astoria laughs again. "Okay, I'll go with you, William."

My face lights up and I scoop her up into a hug and spin her around. Before Daphne can react, I do the same to her.

"_Stupefy_!"

The next thing I know, I'm being revived face down on the dungeon floor. "Ow," I try to say, but I'm still silenced. So I undo it and try again. "Ow. C'mon, Daphne, you couldn't have at least used a Cushioning Charm?"

Neville laughs. "Told ya," he says to somebody.

"It's William, of course he wouldn't be angry," Luna says as if it would be the most obvious thing in the world. I sit up to find Daphne missing but the rest of the group looking on in concern, even Tracey and Astoria.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Astoria says worriedly.

"Well my face hurts and I'm going to have a headache," I say, working my jaw. "But other than that I'm good."

"I think you actually got her angry this time," Neville says helpfully.

I laugh. "You think? I got a good, solid hug out of it, so it was worth it. I misjudged, though...I thought I could swing a kiss on the cheek before she'd actually hit me with a Stunner."

"You are insane," Tracey says, smiling while she shakes her head.

"Lovably insane," I counter, rubbing my jaw.

"No, you really are insane. Daphne hasn't hugged anybody like that from Hogwarts, well, ever. She hasn't hugged anybody at all for two years, and that was me when my—well, never mind. She stormed off before you even hit the floor."

"Well that's good, I suppose," I say slowly, "that means we're still on for the Ball, right, Ms. Greengrass?"

She smiles at me and shakes her head, too. "Yes, William, but please call me Astoria."

"Thanks, Astoria. You think Daphne will forbid you from going now?"

"No, she'll probably feel bad soon, if she doesn't already," she says, glancing nervously back to the common room. "She wouldn't be able to stop me anyway. Don't tell her I said those things, though."

I smile. "Our little secret, then. It was nice meeting you, Astoria." I stand up with Neville's assistance and offer her my hand. "And thanks for coming, Ms. Davis. Tell Daphne I'm sorry about the hug. I'll ask her first next time."

Astoria giggles at that. "You like my sister, don't you?"

I grin back. "Well, she is quite stunning."

She laughs at that. "That was awful, William."

I sigh exaggeratedly. "Nobody enjoys a good pun around here, I tell ya. See you later, Astoria, Ms. Davis." I wave and walk away.

Nobody says anything for a minute while we make our way back up the way we came.

"What just happened?" Neville asks finally. That opens the floodgates.

"I can't even figure out where to start asking questions to figure that out," Parvati says.

"I got a date for the Ball," I supply helpfully.

"Yeah, but in the last hour you also had a deep conversation with a door knocker, chatted up the old lady in the Slytherin common room portrait, claimed a drop-dead gorgeous Veela is only the third most attractive woman in the castle, wandlessly broke a Silencing Charm on yourself, _put it back on_, got Stunned by your date's sister, made a joke about it, and walked away smiling." Padma takes a deep breath after that.

"He threatened the door knocker with a Reductor Curse, too, just before you guys came out," Parvati adds.

"And he said he was going to use the Thirty-Seven Steps on the older sister," Lavender says.

I cock my head back in surprise. "Well, it does sound pretty impressive when you say it like that. It was a productive hour."

"It's too bad she accepted, William," Luna says, head tilted playfully. "I would have liked to see what happened if you went to Hufflepuff basement."

* * *

"_Astoria Greengras_s, William? _What were you thinking and what happened to your face?_" Hermione shrieks when we she finds us on the stairs almost to the common room. Harry is standing behind her trying unsuccessfully not to smile.

"Oh hi, Hermione," I say with a grin, "it's wonderful to see you, too." I note the privacy charm already around us.

"How'd you know about Astoria?" Parvati asks, surprised.

Hermione immediately flushes with embarrassment. "Uh...I...er." She looks at me for help.

"She figured it out, obviously," I say, "you don't have to hide it, Hermione, I know you know about _some_ of my devious plots."

"Um, right..."

"Has he used the Thirty-Seven Steps on you?" Lavender blurts again.

Hermione turns to her with a confused expression. "The what?"

"I'll show you later," I say with the same grin. Lavender blushes and makes a little squeak as she runs into the common room.

"What, _exactly_, did you do, William?" Hermione asks, looking at me suspiciously.

"It was a productive couple of hours," I say nonchalantly.

Neville and Parvati snort at that. "Well, Padma's not here to recap it all this time, but I'll try," Parvati offers. She does an admirable job, with Neville's assistance.

"You did _what_ to the portrait?" Hermione says, aghast.

"I didn't do anything," I insist, holding my hands up in surrender, "I was only suggesting it, and I wasn't serious."

She crosses her arms but lets that slide. "Well, why did you let Daphne hit you with a Stunner?"

"I didn't let her," I say, "she got me when my back was turned."

"And _why_ was your back turned?" She turns her head as if lecturing a child.

I look down with a exaggerated pout. "Because I was going for more hugs."

"William!"

"What? It was an emotionally charged moment! I thought for sure I could sneak one in with Ms. Patil and her sister at the same time." I didn't think that at the time, actually, but now that I have, I curse myself for missing the chance. I really should have went for them after Astoria.

Hermione scoffs, but my pout is ruined when I smile as Parvati laughs.

"You are incorrigible, William," Hermione says in her usual semi-disgusted tone.

"You know, you're going to run out of insults," I say with a grin, "in fact I think you might have used that one already."

"Doesn't make it any less true!"

Parvati surprises me with a quick hug. "Well, you didn't have to sneak it with me. Thanks for the...interesting evening. Please call me Parvati." She turns to Hermione and smiles. "I think I finally have an idea what you and Harry have gone through all this time."

"Thanks for coming with me, Parvati," I say, smiling back. "Maybe we can do it again sometime, except with less violence."

She laughs. "I don't know if I can handle your special brand of insanity again for awhile. See you around, William."

"If this is what it's like hanging around you three all the time, I don't know if I can keep up either," Neville says with a grin. "Later, guys."

Hermione says goodbye to Neville and turns back to me with an unreadable look. "You've certainly made an impression on them."

"Eh, you know me," I say with a shrug. "I might have been showing off a bit."

"Not surprising," she says. "Should I be as afraid as I think I should be to ask about these Thirty-Seven Steps?"

"Probably." I try unsuccessfully to suppress a grin.

She purses her lips to the side and her eyes darken.

My grin falters and I turn away. "Hermione, you know what it does to me when you make that face."

"William," she whines, "be serious!"

I decide to do just that, turning and sitting at her feet without saying anything for a minute. "I know you worry about me, Hermione, and I'm sorry for worrying you."

She sits next to me and softens her voice. "Why Astoria Greengrass?"

I take a deep breath. "You know when I told you about Draco and his gang finding me alone? Daphne told me that the Fourth Year Slytherins were really thrown by what I told them. Draco has apparently spoken very little since then. I know it seems ridiculous, but Hermione, what if it's working? I'll take a point-blank Stunner to the back every day if there's a chance it'll help."

"I can't believe it, William, did she really say that?" Harry says incredulously.

"She did."

"But what if it's not a Stunner next time?" She asks, worry filling her voice. "You have to be careful, William! It's...it's not worth it if you get seriously hurt or...or..."

I pull her into a tight hug. "I'm not as brave as you or Harry." I chuckle grimly. "Any real danger and I'd probably run away if I wasn't frozen in fear. As long as you or Harry aren't in danger, that is."

"The Sorting Hat wouldn't have put you in Gryffindor if you weren't brave," she says, still squeezing me tight.

I sigh. "Actually it said it would have put me in Ravenclaw. I pretty much just told it that I will be in Gryffindor to be close to you two."

She pulls back, looking at me in shock. I feel like I can sense her thoughts flitting across her mind. "Of course! You knew...you knew everything about what happened to Harry. You were just pretending you didn't know about the Sorting Hat when you asked me how it worked on the train!"

"Sorry about that," I say, smiling sheepishly. The smile fades and I drop my gaze. "You realize that I also knew who you were when we first met, even though I joked that I didn't."

Hermione elbows me in the kidney. "Prat! You manipulated me into loving you."

She's not being serious, but it still hurts. "Ah, I suppose I did. I'm sorry...that was not part of the plan."

She gives me a quick squeeze. "None of that, now. I don't mind. So what was the plan?"

"Plan A was to get back home, but that fell through in about two minutes," I say, thinking back to my unsuccessful attempts to get back through the barrier just before the train departed. "Plan B is to help Harry."

"You told us you couldn't let us go, knowing what Harry has had to face, but now you admit you could have gone to Ravenclaw and sat all this out," she recalls. "That's courage, William, plain and simple."

"Well, be that as it may, I really am careful, Hermione," I say, getting back on track. "I was among friends, not looking for trouble. Even Daphne introduced me as 'her friend' to her sister. Harry is the one that trouble loves to follow, not me."

She leans back into a hug, which I gladly return. "Be sure that you remain careful, then."

"Oh, I dunno," Harry says, flopping down on Hermione's other side. "It is kinda nice having someone else get yelled at by Hermione all the time."

"Prat," she says without conviction. It also doesn't help her cause that she throws her other arm around him. "Did Daphne really say you were her friend?"

I smile. "She did...in front of Tracey and all the others that were with me, in fact."

Hermione shakes her head.

"You know I only love you, though," I say, laying my head on hers and nuzzling a bit.

"For now," she says playfully, bucking me off. "You know I can't really compete with most of the girls you met tonight."

"I suppose that's a fair statement, though it'd be more accurate to say they can't compete with you," I say, giving her a nudge.

She rolls her eyes but the action doesn't completely mask her smile. "I bet you say that to all of your girls."

I laugh. "My girls, are they? No, though I did tell Astoria that she's prettier than both Daphne and Fleur Delacour."

Harry bursts out laughing and Hermione makes a choking sound. "I wouldn't believe you if you were anybody else, but I know you too well by now." She smiles and shakes her head. "I really don't think you should say stuff like that, though."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Beauty is subjective. Just look at yourself. Harry and I seem to see you with completely different eyes than you do." I look away with a sigh. "I would extol the myriad aspects of your beauty, but it's just going to make me sad again." I quickly continue in order to break the silence that follows. "Astoria is a little cutie, though, wait 'til you see. Picture a younger Daphne with a bit of baby fat and bright, happy, violet eyes instead of her sister's cold, light blue ones."

Hermione takes a deep breath and squeezes me with her one arm. "Well, enough of this moping about. You two gentlemen need to practice dancing."

Harry groans in response.

"Ouch, bad luck, Harry," I say playfully. "I wonder who the other gentleman is? Oh well, I guess I'll just nip on over to...ow!"

"You made a deal!" Hermione says, narrowing her eyes.

"Hermione, you're talking to the guy who promised to do unspeakable things to a portrait of an old lady," Harry points out.

"Hey, she may have had a bit of white hair but she cut a fine figure in that dress," I say in my defense.

"You are awful! You did make up that Thirty-Seven Steps thing, didn't you?" Hermione asks.

I gasp loudly. "Hermione Jean Granger, you saucy minx!"

She reddens and smacks me on the shoulder again. "Forget it!"

"The Thirty-Seven Steps to Female Ecstasy," I say, pausing meaningfully to enjoy her further reddening, "are just one of the many secrets of Sinanju. I most certainly did not make that up." Harry's jaw drops, while Hermione's opens and closes. "Of course I read about it in fiction, so somebody else did."

Harry bursts out laughing and Hermione full-on punches me in the shoulder. "_And you told Lavender, Parvati, and Neville you were going to show me!_" she shrieks.

"Bloody hell, William, I was about to ask you to teach me," Harry says with a laugh, earning him a smack, too.

"You have to admit, it's a good back story. Although, the guys that use it have some sort of Veela-like aura to help them. Here, Hermione, give me your left wrist, I'll start Step One."

"No!" she yelps, yanking her hand away.

"Come now, darling, it's fictional, it _probably_ won't work. Besides, I only remember Step One and Two, and they only involve your left wrist and the small of your back, respectively. I'm pretty sure the good stuff isn't until Step Ten or so."

I hold my hand out and with a blush she places her left wrist in it, palm facing down. "Fine, but no funny stuff."

With a grin I rotate it so it's palm up, then find her pulse. "This is Step One," I say, as I take two fingers and begin tapping in time with her pulse. When her pulse begins to quicken almost immediately, I quickly drop her wrist. Holy shit! "Uh, maybe this is not such a good idea."

"What happened?" Harry asks excitedly.

"Er..." Hermione says, still blushing.

"Her pulse started to pick up, which is what Step One is supposed to do," I say, also blushing. "Here, Harry, you try."

"No!" Hermione squeaks. "I mean, that's okay, I think I've had enough fictional seduction methods for the day."

"Says the Wily Seductress herself," I say with a grin. "Well, you heard the lady, Harry, you'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"That's not what I—"

"By the way..." I cut in, then I begin lightly drawing figure eights on the small of her back. "This is Step Two."

Hermione jumps forward with a squeal and runs away.

* * *

The last few days before Christmas are extremely busy for me, since I have to finish the second present for Daphne and I'm now working on a little present for Astoria, too. I also spend an inordinate amount of time in the Room of Requirement trying to find more resources on active runes and warding. Unfortunately since Professor Babbling is more interested in languages and meanings and Professor Vector is more interested in numerology, there isn't much mentor expertise to be tapped. Apparently Hogwarts brings in temporary instructors for upper-level students who are interested in more advanced practical experience.

I make a breakthrough (well, a breakthrough for _me_) on basic, hand-held rune stones with two days left, so I end up refinishing all of them with my magic, which leaves my stomach in a painful knot almost all the time except during the after-breakfast dance lessons with Harry, Hermione, and Luna. Neville comes to observe and give pointers as well, his Gran having forced him to learn during the summer. Ron steadfastly refuses, maintaining that he will be dancing as little as possible anyway.

We all wear the shoes that we'll be wearing to the Ball for realism, and of course I end up apologizing profusely on many occasions. Luna is not used to formal dancing, either, so she is anxious to keep up with Neville. I don't see any deficiencies, of course, since she floats around the dance floor like a ghost. It does work out wonderfully having another female partner, since it makes practice much more bearable, and allows Hermione to get a closer look at us.

Plus, I think most of her toes would be broken if she couldn't distribute the pain.

After some last minute improvements to some of my earlier carvings, I take the rest of the evening to carefully wrap everything and write short notes to the main recipients. Then Harry told me that I simply write the recipient of my gift on the package like a letter, leave it under the tree, and then the House Elves distribute them overnight. I briefly consider delivering them by hand instead, but I decide against it. At least I'll get to see my fellow Gryffindors open theirs. It might be difficult to visit the Slytherin dungeon again, and since I've been holed up since the incident with Daphne, I haven't seen her yet. Plus, as well-off Slytherins, I'm a bit embarrassed by the simplicity of my gifts to them. If I just send them with the House Elves, they don't have to pretend to like them in front of me. I would have liked to see Luna's reaction, but I know she doesn't have many friends in Ravenclaw, so I wanted her to wake up to three extra presents.

It takes me back to my childhood in some ways since it takes me a long while to fall asleep. The anticipation is of a different sort, though. Instead of excitement over what I'm going to get, I feel some combination of excitement and dread at what my friends will think of my gifts. That sparks a slew of thoughts of previous holidays, of old memories. The memories lead to pleasant dreams of another life.

Before I know it, someone is shaking me awake. "—on, wake up! Sleeping in on Christmas morning," the girl asks in a painfully chipper tone, "who does that?"

"Mm, little longer, baby, come back to bed," I say groggily, pulling her down and snuggling tight. Her squeak goes largely unnoticed by my sleep-addled brain, in no small part to the delicious smell of her hair in my face and her back pressed tightly against my chest. I quickly yank the covers out from underneath her and pull her even closer, then cover us both. I breathe in her scent deeply, let my eyes roll back in my head, and a deep, rumbling purr of contentment escapes my throat.

A shudder runs through her, so I squeeze her tighter. "William?" she says, voice barely above a whisper.

Somewhere in the back of my brain I wonder who William is. "Mm," my throat rumbles instead.

"Please..."

"Hm?" The drowsy fog begins to lift, after which the details around me resolve quickly. Other canopied beds, brown, bushy hair obscuring my vision... "'rmione?"

"Can you...can you let me up now?"

Suddenly, a number of observations regarding my current situation hit me. Firstly, I'm in bed in only my boxers. Secondly, I'm cuddling Hermione very closely. Thirdly, my right hand is in a nice and soft but rather inappropriate place. And last but certainly not least, it's morning, with all of the involuntary physiological responses that entails. "Oh!" I quickly release her, lifting up the covers so she can roll away from me. "Hermione, I'm so sorry!" I hope the full extent of my horror is conveyed by that statement.

Unfortunately, my horror only grows when she scoots out of bed and walks briskly out of the room without a word.

I try to rub the rest of the sleepiness out of my eyes. "Shit." Looking around, it appears that Harry is the only other one here. I toss a pillow at him. "Harry."

"Ungh," is the response.

"Harry," I repeat, "I may have done something bad."

"Wha—?" he says, sitting up quickly and squinting around the room. Apparently convinced there is no immediate danger, he rubs his eyes with one hand and gropes for his glasses with the other. He puts them on and looks around again. "What happened?"

"Um, well, Hermione came to wake us up, and I may have been confused from my dream, pulled her down under the covers, and cuddled with her," I say.

"Nicely done," he says with a sleepy chuckle that turns into a yawn.

I yawn, too. "I don't think she thought so. She ran out of the room as soon as I let her up." I rub my head in embarrassment. "Well, my hand may have been firmly pressing her against my chest...using her chest. And, uh...well, it's morning..."

He flinches with a jolt of embarrassment for me. "Bloody hell."

"Yeah."

"Lucky bastard," he mutters, yawning again.

"Yeah," I say with a grimace, thinking I'm anything but. "Think she'll be mad?"

He scratches his head. "I dunno, she didn't seem to mind when I woke up after using her chest as a pillow."

"Well, you didn't semi-consciously do that, and you weren't poking her in the nether regions with your own nether regions, either," I point out.

He grimaces back. "Yeah, she might be mad about that."

"Damn it."

"Lucky bastard."

* * *

When Hermione spots me and immediately turns her head away from me, I grimace. "I'm really sorry, Hermione. Can we talk?"

I leave plenty of space between us on the couch, well away from the tree, about which many Gryffindors are currently swarming. Hermione doesn't answer. I take that as a 'go ahead and talk.'

I sigh. "I was confused about where I was. I thought you...I didn't know..." I trail off, not sure how to say it. I don't want to make it awkward by saying who I thought she was. "I'm sorry," I finish weakly.

She still says nothing.

"I...I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She shakes her head.

"I don't believe you," I say, my voice breaking. "I-I wish I could make it up to you somehow, but I know...I'm sorry."

I try to stand up and run back to my room to hide for the rest of the day, but Hermione catches my hand and pulls me back down closer to her. I look up and see tears in her eyes, tears that burn through my heart like acid. I want to throw up. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"But I—"

"No," she cuts in, "you didn't hurt me. At least, not the way you think."

I stare at her uncomprehendingly.

"When you...h-held me like that – when you made that sound – it felt..." she pauses when her body shudders with a sob. "I didn't want..." She closes her eyes, then shakes her head to clear it. "It just reminded me of that night. That terrible night, when Harry came back. The worst night of my life."

I don't know what to say, and I don't know what to do. I want to hug her, but I don't know if that would just make things worse. She takes away the decision, and her head falls to my shoulder.

"You sounded so happy, William. And here I am, wanting you to...and then there's Harry..."

I run my fingers through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp. "I think...I understand, Hermione." My mouth goes dry, and my heart pounds in my chest. "You know what makes the most sense, don't you?"

She shakes her head.

"Harry does. It hurts to admit it, Hermione, but you know we're going to get him through this thing. All of it. He's going to die of old age well over a century from now. Hell, probably over two centuries from now. But me...well, you heard Dobby. I'm not even a wizard. Even if I don't just up and disappear just like I did before – which is a real possibility – I certainly won't live to see the twenty-second century. I'm an intruder here. I shouldn't even be here in the first place. And, to top it all off, I'm still keeping secrets from you."

She sniffles. "I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to talk me _out_ of wanting to be with you."

"You've said it several times already: I'm a masochist. Holding you like that...it felt amazing. I wish I could..." I sigh, not wanting to finish that thought. Then I blush. "Um, I'm sorry about the hand and about the...uh...about poking you."

She blushes, too. "Yes, well, you were a bit out of it, so I suppose I'll let it slide this time." She sits up and takes a moment to compose herself. "Okay, let's go open presents."

I let out a breath of relief. "Thanks. Next time, I'll make sure I'm fully conscious when I pull you under the covers and—ow!"

* * *

A/N:

The Thirty-Seven Steps to Female Ecstasy I got from _Harry Potter and the Sun Source_ by Clell65619, which is a crossover with the Destroyer series. I've never read any of the Destroyer series, but that's where it originally came from. Also, I looked up the steps (the ones that the authors have actually listed, that is), and massaging the small of the back is actually Step Four, but oh well, 'I' didn't remember that.

I meant to get to the gift exchange this chapter, but once again my plans fail me.

Also, about Harry living over two centuries...Headmaster Dippet supposedly lived for three and a half. I'm not sure if that is officially blessed canon, though, since if I understand the HP wiki correctly, his birth year is only listed as 1637 in the second movie. I don't attempt to explain the life expectancy of wizards and witches in this story, though it's easy to introduce plot holes if you don't take it into consideration.

R & R, C & C

* * *

OMAKE #5:

_If the previous 90k words are any indication, you know I'm not above a bit of author fan service. But even I have to draw the line somewhere...this time._

"Um, I'm sorry about the hand and about the...uh...about poking you," I catch myself making hand gestures and I stop myself with a blush.

She blushes, too. "Yes, well, you were a bit out of it." Then she blushes even more brightly and looks down. "And it felt good," she adds in a small voice.

I groan and slap my forehead. "Oh Hermione, don't tell me that..."

"Well, I'm sorry! And don't moan around me anymore, either. Especially not that sound you made when you got me under the covers." She shudders again. "I'm already going to have to take a cold shower as it is."

"You can't say stuff like that," I whine, "it's already bad enough with just my innuendo."

"William Adalbert Lerner," she teases, "am I making you uncomfortable?"

"You have no idea."

"Actually," she says, grinning mischievously, "I do now."

"Oh, that's it. Just for that..." I squeeze her into a tight hug, bury my face in her hair, and take a deep breath...

She squeals playfully. "No!"

"Mm," I purr, going for the same throaty rumble as before, causing her to shudder.

"Curse you, William."

"I love you, too."


	16. Chapter 16: Yuletide Festivities

Disclaimer: I once tried to use sexual innuendo on JK Rowling, but the only legal right she transferred to me was a restraining order.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Sixteen: Yuletide Festivities**

"He showed you, didn't he?" The female voice snaps Hermione and I out of our teasing. We turn to find Lavender looking at us, wide-eyed.

"Actually, he did," Hermione says. I choke on my saliva, and she grins wickedly at me. "I only made it to Step Two."

Lavender gasps, then runs away again.

"You are trying to kill me, aren't you?" I ask with a groan.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she says innocently, batting her eyelashes at me.

I let out an amused breath. "You realize, of course, that now the entire school is going to hear what I 'did' to you."

She suddenly looks like a deer in headlights. "Oh."

"Yeah," I say, looking at her with a half smile. "At least only me, you, and Harry know about you being under the covers with me this morning. On the bright side, I may end up getting propositioned quite a bit."

Her eyes bulge even further.

I take pity on her and squeeze her into a hug against my side. "I'm teasing, I'm teasing. Well, what's done is done, and there's no help for it now. Let's go find Harry and open our gifts. I couldn't sleep last night since I was worried what you'd all think of mine, so I'm ready to get it over with."

She lets out a breath in relief at the subject change and takes my hand to stand up as well. "I'm sure they'll be wonderful, William."

As we turn toward the stairs to the boys dorm, we see Harry leaning against the wall smiling at us.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Hermione says with a bright smile, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," he says warmly.

"Sorry, I would have gotten you earlier but this big lug attacked me," she says, jerking her head toward me.

I chuckle and shake my head. I try to think of a witty retort, but I come up empty since they'll all hurt. I'm glad she's joking about that part now, though...that could have ended much worse. "Merry Christmas, Harry. Let's go find your presents, shall we?"

"And yours, too," he says with a smile. "Merry Christmas, William."

We make our way over to the tree, where many students are milling about and chatting. I spot Neville talking with Ron, Dean, and Seamus. For a moment I panic that Neville or Ron will show Harry or Hermione their pictures and ruin the surprise – especially in Neville's case – but then I remember that I had already thought of that last night. I wrote a postscript telling all four of them to not show their gifts to the other three until they'd all opened their gifts.

Neville looks up and sees us approaching the tree, then waves us over. "Hey, Merry Christmas guys! Yours are all over here." He points to the pile of presents nearest him.

"Merry Christmas, Neville," Hermione says, making him blush with a quick hug. "What'd you get?"

"Uh uh, Hermione, you three open first, then we all show off later," he says with a smile aimed toward me.

I give him a thumbs up and kneel down next to Hermione at the fairly sizable pile in front of her. I recognize my wrapping, and hand them to Hermione and Harry, respectively. We all finish making our piles in front of us, and I frown at how large mine is.

"Is something wrong, William?" Hermione asks, noticing my discomfort.

"I didn't make this many gifts," I say slowly. "I'm worried I forgot people."

"Nobody expects anything in return, William, that's what Christmas is all about," she says. "Besides, you can always grovel later."

I give her a small smile, though I'm not very reassured. "I suppose."

I open a smaller package that turns out to be from Ron, which is a pile of snacks. I look up to thank him but he's busy digging into his own bag of candy. So my eyes fall back to the pile, which is mostly separated into a book-sized pile and a few larger boxes. I go for the books. The first one I open appears to be a rather old manuscript entitled _On the Manipulation of Magickal Energies without an External Focus._ A note falls into my lap when I open the worn leather cover.

_William,_

_My father's personal library contained this tome on wandless magic. You seem to be quite proficient, so I tried to find the most advanced resource in his rare collection. I hope you find it useful._

_- D_

I can't help but flip through a few pages before Harry nudges me. "Hey, we had to set this rule three years ago with Hermione: no reading any Christmas presents until all of them are open!"

Hermione laughs with Harry. "I know, completely unfair, isn't it?"

"It is! It looks like I got a bunch of them, too," I say, tapping the pile. To resist temptation I shift to the larger gifts. On top is a soft package, and I easily tear it open to find a large, gray sweater with a surprisingly reasonably-sized 'W' on the chest.

"You got a Weasley sweater!" Harry exclaims.

"No way! This is awesome!" I squish it against me, and it's wonderfully soft. I immediately throw off the jacket of my robes and pull it on. It's a bit too large, which makes it feel nice and cozy. There's a matched pair of knitted mittens and a hat as well, both of which I put on momentarily to complete the outfit. "Man this stuff feels good."

Harry rearranges his pile until he finds his own package, then tears into his and pulls on his own green sweater with a dragon on the front.

"Whoa," I say, quite impressed with the detail on it. "Very nice, Harry!"

"It is, isn't it?" We're grinning madly at each other and then I look over at Hermione who's also smiling happily. Then I realize she doesn't have one.

"Oh, sorry, Hermione," I say sheepishly. "I didn't mean to rub it in."

She continues to smile and waves off my concern. "It's fine, boys. Just make sure Ron and his siblings see how much you appreciate them."

"Definitely."

My next package is much bulkier, and inside is a full set of brand new school robes from Sirius and Remus...a much finer set than my current ones. These are almost as nice as my dress robes! I feel a wave of regret for not thinking of them in my own gift-making activities, despite the fact that I've asked them to place themselves in grave danger. I make a mental note to carve more hand-held rune stones and send them with my thank you note.

Just as I decide that I'm suddenly yanked to the side and gripped into a fierce hug. "It's beautiful, William," Hermione whispers. "Thank you."

"What'd you get?" Harry asks.

Hermione doesn't answer, but digs out my gift to him from his pile. "Whoa, that's much heavier than mine. Here, Harry, open it."

Harry looks at me questioningly.

"From me," I say, a little embarrassed that I'm watching.

He tears it open and the relatively simple carved snitch rolls onto his lap. He runs his finger along the wings etched in relief across it, and along _ehwaz_ – the rune of speed – etched on the bottom. "Wow, that's really good! I didn't realize you were so good at carving."

"Lots of practice," I say with a small smile.

"Look at the other thing he carved, Harry," Hermione says impatiently, then she glances back and waves Neville and Ron over.

He sets the snitch back down on his lap and sets the heavy bag of rune stones aside. Removing the note from the front of the frame, he gazes into the picture of our seventh floor-corridor view for a short time, then runs his fingers along the racing brooms relief-etched into the top and bottom of the frame, as well as the runes carved into the top left and bottom right corners. "This is incredible, William," he says quietly. "No wonder you had to hide from us so often."

"Here's mine," Neville cuts in with a wide smile, holding his out so Harry can see it. "Thank you, William." Neville's has the same runes, but relatively simple plants and a pair of what are supposed to be herbology gloves at the bottom. Not my best work, but the roughness actually looks a bit artful. Not that I have much in the way of taste when it comes to art, of course.

"Mine's better than all of yours," Ron says proudly, handing his to Harry as well. Ron's was the easiest since I just made the sides into Quidditch hoops that encircle the runes. His runes are the same as the ones on his Quidditch hoop: _eihwaz_ and _jeran_ for defense and victory. The picture is him making a save during one of the pick-up Quidditch games earlier in the year. He claps me on the back. "Thanks, mate, it's brilliant."

"Here's mine," Hermione says, showing off hers to Harry. Hers is even more detailed, since I worked on hers and Luna's the most. The relief-etched vines trailing down the sides meet in the center of the bottom, behind a replica of her wand.

"Wow," he whispers. "You really went all out on this one. Mine's fantastic, but this...hey, this bottom rune is different from mine and Neville's."

Hermione looks over at Harry's and then turns to me with an eyebrow raised. I blush. "Uh," I say, then clear my throat. "Yours is _wunjo_, Harry, to symbolize the joy you get riding your broom. Same with Neville, for Herbology. Hermione's is _gebo_ with the wand to symbolize her love of magic. The top rune on your three is _ingwaz_, for the peace we feel sharing the view Luna introduced to us. Ron, yours mean defense and victory."

Hermione raises an eyebrow at my explanation, indicating she sees through the lie. Well, I thought it was a damn good one.

"I saw the snitch, Harry. Here's the other thing he carved for me," Neville says, showing off his lion medallion.

Ron shares his Quidditch hoop, for which I had later carved a base so it could stand up. Hermione also shares her bookmark, and I'm sure I'm blushing quite red with the attention. "I had Professor Flitwick do the unbreakable charm on that, Hermione; I wasn't sure if I could do it myself."

"This is really great stuff, William," Harry says.

"Go on, open the last thing," I say.

Harry reads my note and digs into the bag of rune stones, pulling them out and setting them down carefully. Hermione's eyes bulge at the glowing power rune. "A _thurisaz_-_ingwaz_ triplet, William? _What did you do_? Those aren't like mine!"

"Ah, that was a tough one. I had Professors Babbling and Vector help me figure this out," I say with a smile. "Go ahead, Hermione, look at the rest."

"_Haglaz_, _uruz_, _algiz...ingwaz _core...these look like ward stones, but why is everything paired with a _mannaz_?" She gasps. "Is this a _dream ward_, William?"

I laugh. "Damn it, Hermione, that took me forever! How can you just go and figure it out in thirty seconds?"

"Deciphering an existing ward scheme is a lot different than actually _designing_ it, William; this is NEWT-level work! Bloody hell, it's probably beyond that!"

I scratch my head and grimace slightly. "First, it wasn't my design alone. I went to Professors Babbling and Vector, and the latter had some contacts in St. Mungo's where they use something similar for the psychiatric ward and the nursery. But theirs is far more complicated and on a larger scale. Mine is a simplified and miniaturized version."

Her eyes glaze over in the way they usually do as she's learning interesting information, and I can almost see the questions form in her mind. Then she shakes her head as she apparently finds a more pressing one. "Are you sure it works?"

I grimace a bit. "I tested it myself and the power rune is quite stable...only minimal leakage. Not completely sure about the rest, I don't really have much in the way of bad dreams." Neville and Ron suddenly find the floor rather interesting. "I never had any while trying it, and the power rune had partially discharged one time during the night – much more than just the leakage can account for – but that's not totally solid evidence."

Hermione lets out a breath, then pulls her two handheld runes out. One is a _sowilo_ for power with an _ansuz_ to control it, and a _kaunan_ to discharge, and the other is a _sowilo_, _ansuz_, and _eihwaz_. "This is why you were so drained the past few days. You've been charging runes!"

"A couple days ago I figured out that the runic lanterns and shields—" I say, pointing first to the one with the _kaunan_ and then to the _eihwaz_, "—work better as spheres. So I was using magic to smooth them, and to do that I had to discharge all of them first and recharge them later."

"All of them?" She asks with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I gave a couple more of those out."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "Bloody hell, William."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Ron asks with exaggerated concern. "Every time you say that I keep looking for another version of you to start scolding yourself."

"I think William is a bad influence on her language," Neville says with a grin.

Hermione ignores them. "I can't believe you made all this, William...this is unbelievable. It's supposed to take years to learn how to charge runes without using blood. Even uncharged these things are worth several galleons apiece. Harry would have to pay a warder _hundreds_ to make a runic dream ward and he'd still have to charge it with his own magic."

My eyebrows climb up to my hairline with that statement. Then I realize how long I spent on it. "I guess that makes sense, with the amount of time it took me. Of course if it doesn't work it's not worth that much except for the fairly decent power rune. I wanted to use a _naudiz_ auto-charging set up so he could use it outside of school even if the charge runs out, but I was far too scared to try it."

Hermione lets out a breath. "You had better be too scared to try it, that's definitely mastery level stuff! You could have killed yourself or Harry trying that!"

"I know, that's why I won't try it for _at least_ a few more months."

Hermione presses her lips together and tries to kill me with her eyes again.

"Thank you, William," Harry says quietly. "The fact that you spent so much time on all of this...well, thank you."

I smile. "You're welcome. I'm just glad you all like them. Now quit embarrassing me and let's open the rest!"

Hermione's glare softens, then she leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, then goes back to her pile.

Returning to mine, I open the one I had been holding before Hermione attacked me. It's a fine, dark-gray cloak suitable for fall and spring from Professor McGonagall, with a note that this time it is a gift, but I am welcome to continue working with her. Once again I curse myself for not considering her for a gift.

The last of the larger boxes is a similar size, and I open it to find workout gear from Luna. I'm actually kind of surprised at the normalcy of the gift, even considering the bizarre patterns on the sweats and shoes. At least, I was surprised until a back issue of the Quibbler falls out, detailing the critical importance of colorful shoes when running near water that contains magical creatures.

Having gone through the larger stuff, I go back and selected a smaller, lighter box that is obviously not a book, so as to save those for last. It's a shimmering gray bow tie, a set of rather expensive-looking cufflinks, and fancy white rose boutineer from Astoria, with a note asking me to please wear them to the Ball tonight. The silk and apparently platinum cufflinks probably cost quite a bit, but I realize these are probably as much for her date as they are for me. I feel the same twinge of worry about the little thing I made her, but I set that aside again.

I sift through the rest of my book-size packages and find one that is far too heavy to be a book. Opening that, I find a heavy wooden box of rune etching tools, a few thin squares of sandstone, and a book on Egyptian runic ward schemes and how to break them. A note inside the book contains a hasty scrawl.

_William,_

_I told the other William (Bill Weasley) about your interest in Runes, and I asked him to recommend a set of etching tools and a book to go with it. He recommended this set of starter tools and sent this book back, saying Egyptian runes are some of the most interesting because of the variety of runes and potential meanings. Have fun!_

_- Harry_

Forgetting the deal, I immediately open the book. "This is fantastic, Harry! Thank you!"

"Hey! No reading!" He says, laughing.

"I was just...um...taking my time putting the bookmark in," I say innocently.

Hermione laughs at that. "Hey, that's brilliant! It's important to find a proper place for your bookmark, after all. I suspect I will have quite a bit of trouble with that myself!"

I laugh too. "How do you stand this rule, Hermione? It looks like I've got five more books to go!"

She smiles and her cheeks pink a bit, and I realize one must be from her. So I dig right in, and find the first one is what appears to be a Muggle book on woodcarving from Hagrid. Damn it! Another person who got me something but I have nothing to give in return. How could I forget Hagrid? And how did he manage to get a Muggle book, anyway? It looks impressive just from the extremely detailed lion figurines on the cover, but I reluctantly put it down in order to stick to the rules and pick up the next one.

This one is not a book, but what appears to be a diary, a set of charcoal pencils of varying thickness, a Muggle pen, a roll of thick parchment, an inky black rectangular prism, and...some kind of elongated glass globe thing with bands of different material wrapped around it. Perplexed, I find the note from Hermione.

_William,_

_This is a cursebreakers' notebook, rubbing charcoal and parchment, and magical resonance detector. Apparently these are the most important tools for a cursebreaker outside the Bubblehead Charm, according to Bill Weasley. He also contributed the first rune scheme for your notebook, which details his personal modification to a common intruder alarm rune scheme._

_The notebook, he says, is absolutely any cursebreaker's most-treasured possession. It contains rune schemes he has invented and defeated, and as such it must be kept as well-protected as his own life. On the first page he wrote about one way to lock it that will keep most people out, but he warns that this will not be sufficient if you get serious about it._

_The muggle pen and ink reservoir is my addition. I worked with Professor Flitwick to charm the pen to pull ink from the reservoir, so it will last a long time. You said you preferred practical things, so I hope you like it!_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

I start to look back at the gifts, but I do a double take at a part of the note. I get a good solid laugh out of this.

"What?" She asks, her cheeks still pink and her tone defensive.

"Oh Hermione, this is great! Thank you for the gifts, I love this stuff! But you _have_ to read your note again."

She does and looks at me perplexed and slightly angry. "I don't get it."

"What are the most important things for a cursebreaker again?" I say, grinning.

She frowns at me, then looks back at the note. "Well, he did mention these things. Did I get something wrong?"

"What's the one thing you couldn't buy me?"

She quickly re-reads the note again. "The Bubblehead Charm?"

I look at her pointedly.

She stares back.

"Come on, Hermione, work with me here! What does it do?"

Her head cocks back and she furrows her brows. "Well it lets you—" she begins, then her eyes widen and her mouth drops open.

I laugh again. "I see you had forgotten about that."

She smacks her forehead. "I'm such an idiot!"

"I thought we had determined that you are categorically exempt from that term," I say.

She scowls, unconvinced. "Shows what you know. I can't believe that didn't occur to me until you clubbed me over the head with it."

"You would have gotten it next time we spoke about it, I'm sure," I say reassuringly.

"Well, we should talk about it during breakfast, or after," she says, glancing around. "I still think that your other idea...well, we'll talk about it later."

"Fair enough," I say, turning back to my pile. I'm anxious to finish up and start digging into this warding and cursebreaking stuff. But then I remember why I'm here, and I wonder what, if anything, I'll be able to use from these resources for thwarting the resurrection after the Third Task. That thought sobers my mood rather quick.

The next gift is a copy of our current Arithmancy text without a note, and I quickly open the second-to-last, which is a copy of our current Ancient Runes text, also without a note. Perplexed, I set those aside and open the last gift, which I recognize as a copy of one of the books on wards Hermione and I looked at way back in the beginning of the year. This one has a note in it.

_William,_

_Ever since we first met in the Room of Requirement, I've been combining our notes from Arithmancy and Ancient Runes and making relevant asides and cross-references to this book on warding in the margins of our textbooks. For your copies I've pruned some of the extraneous things that are in mine, but I think I captured the most important stuff. But of course you're brilliant, so I'm sure I could have removed even more. This way you can also have your own copies of at least these two textbooks to write in, or just do what you please._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Now that all of my presents are open, I don't feel bad about flipping open my Arithmancy textbook. Sure enough, there are very neatly-written notes in the margin as well as relevant page numbers for topics in both the other textbook and the book on warding.

"This is awesome, Hermione," I say with a broad smile. "I can't believe you got me so much amazing stuff!"

She beams. "Well, originally I was just going to get you those three books, but when I saw what you made for Neville and how hard you were working, I knew your gifts would be better than mine. So when Harry said he was writing to Bill, I couldn't help attaching my own letter."

"No way, your gifts to me were way better than mine to you. Thank you, Hermione." I pull her into a tight hug. "Now let me see what else you got."

* * *

Breakfast is actually one of two feasts today; since dinner at the normal time would cut into the ladies' prep time for the Ball, breakfast goes later and dinner starts earlier. We run into Luna immediately outside the Great Hall, who quickly envelops me into a hug.

"Hey," I say, surprised, then I return her hug. "Hello, Luna."

"Hello, William," she says, still not letting go.

She's been giving more frequent displays of affection, but I still smile at this one. Obviously it's about my gift, but I don't want to bring it up first. I do enjoy a good, solid hug.

Ron shifts uncomfortably, and Hermione and Harry just smile at us. But then I note Neville shifting as well, so I figure I better cut this short. "Thank you for the gift. I'm looking forward to having some comfortable workout clothing next time we run."

"Thank you for the picture and the frame, it's really beautiful," she says. I feel her smiling. Then she finally pushes away. "Oh, and thank you for this, too." She pulls the medallion I made for her out of her robes.

"What is that odd-looking creature on there?" Neville asks, squinting her eyes and leaning in close. "I might have said a badger but what's wrong with its face?"

I chuckle lightly. "This masterpiece of evolutional hilarity is a duck-billed platypus – a non-magical creature that lives in Australia."

"There's no way that's a real animal," Ron says with a laugh.

"No, it is," Hermione says, chocolate eyes dancing with mirth at my description.

"Just because you've never seen it firsthand doesn't mean it doesn't exist," I say sagely. "I'll show you the picture I used as a reference next time we're in the Room."

Luna's eyes keep growing brighter and brighter as we speak, and she once again throws her arms around me.

I laugh when my stomach rumbles. "I do love me some hugs, Luna, but at this rate I'm going to have to carry you into breakfast."

Luna ends up following us to the Gryffindor table, but once again she's so tiny I don't think anybody notices. Breakfast passes rather slowly, first with many of the students exchanging stories about what they received, and then with discussion of the upcoming Ball. With the mention of the Ball I'm reminded that I haven't seen the Greengrass sisters yet, so I look over to the Slytherin table. However, they don't seem to be over there.

Hermione catches my glance. "Do you want to go look for them?"

My eyes shift back to her to find an unreadable expression, but at least it seems to be less hostile than it usually is when she asks about Daphne. I shrug. "I'll see them later."

"Daphne still hasn't apologized to you for Stunning you," Hermione points out, anger creeping into her voice.

"Well, to be fair I did hug her," I say with a chuckle.

"You give good hugs, I don't see why she would get angry about that," Luna puts in.

"Thanks, Luna."

"We can go find her, William. We're all finished – well, except for Ron but he'll sit here until the food disappears – and I think I've heard quite enough speculation about the Ball." Harry says.

I look at Hermione, who sighs. "Can't argue with that."

"You want company?" Neville asks.

"Sure," I say with a shrug. "She might not want to apologize if there are too many people, though."

"That shouldn't matter," Hermione says firmly.

"I'll stay!" Ron volunteers eagerly, earning a laugh from the rest of us.

Neville frowns, looking between us. "I'll stay here, as well. Be careful, though."

"I'll stay here, too," Luna says, then looks somewhat seriously at the bushy-haired Gryffindor. "Hermione, make sure she realizes that William gives good hugs and that's no reason to be angry with him."

I chuckle, then squeeze her to my side and kiss her on top of the head. "I'll make sure she sees reason. Thanks, Luna."

We stand up and make our way out of the Hall. The three of us draw a number of stares, but I assume it's once again because of Harry. Finally away from the stares in a secluded, empty corridor, Harry pulls out the Map and checks it. After a few minutes, we're all convinced that neither of them are on the grounds. I notice that Moody and Crouch are in Moody's office again, and I sweat a bit, waiting for one of them to point it out. When I successfully force myself to change my focus, two names walking away from the Great Hall catch my attention: Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini.

Harry sees them, too, and points them out. "You want to catch up?" Harry asks.

"If you guys are up for it," I say, looking at Hermione.

She looks at me with the same unreadable expression for a moment. "Let's go."

We silently stalk the halls and catch up in a matter of minutes. I glance at Hermione several times, but she isn't paying attention.

"Mr. Zabini, Ms. Davis," I call, jogging up to them once we're in sight.

"Lerner," Zabini says coolly.

"Have you guys seen Daphne? I was busy this past week so I didn't get to apologize to her in person." I hear Hermione make a noise behind me, but she doesn't say anything.

"She's not here," Blaise says shortly.

Tracey rolls her eyes. "Her father is bringing her back around noon."

"Ah, family thing," I say, nodding. "Astoria, too, I take it?"

"Yes," Tracey says before Blaise has a chance to say anything.

"Well, I hope they received my gifts," I say, more to myself. "Please tell them I was looking for them. Do you suppose Daphne and Astoria would be interested in meeting up before the afternoon feast, Ms. Davis?"

"Yes," she says again quickly.

Blaise is looking more upset by the moment, so I ask about it. "Do you disagree, Mr. Zabini?"

He scoffs and turns around, walking away.

"That's a no, he doesn't disagree," Tracey says, smiling back. "He's just angry that they _would_ be interested."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say, though I'm really not. "How about the seventh floor corridor again? Unless you want to pick a place, I mean."

"No, that'll be fine," she says. "We'll see you then, I'm sure."

"Goodbye, Ms. Davis."

We walk away more slowly than we arrived. For several minutes, none of us speak. I'm thinking about what it means that Daphne and Astoria went to see their father. Almost certainly it was just to see family on Christmas. Neville didn't go...I suppose his parents are permanent residents of St. Mungo's and I get the impression his Gran isn't exactly a ray of sunshine, but they're still family.

"Why do you do that?" Hermione asks into the silence, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Do what?" I ask.

"Act like that around them," she says with a sour expression. "Like you're...inferior or something."

"I don't know, it seems natural to me," I shrug. "Or maybe intuitive is a better word. I guess I get the impression that they'll listen more to what I have to say if I'm acting how they might expect."

She doesn't seem to appreciate that answer. "Do you do the same to us, then?"

I consider that a moment. "I suppose I did a little bit when I first met you, but now you know me better than anyone else, so I suppose I act like the 'real me' around you. Although, if you want to get philosophical, I suppose every face I put on is a mask. Is there even a way I act that is purely 'me?' I don't know. I might have a picture in my head of who I am, but that doesn't necessarily square with how you guys see me, or even how I act."

She frowns at me. "Why not act the way you picture yourself in your head, then?"

"I think I try," I say with a shrug.

She ponders that for a moment. "Do you think the way that I see you is how you picture yourself?"

"No," I say immediately. She flinches slightly, but I crack a wide smile. "Judging by the number of times that you've tried to kill me with your eyes, I think I'm a lot funnier than you think I am."

Harry bursts out laughing with me, and Hermione sends me a mock death glare.

"Close," I say, "but I don't see the usual malice behind it this time."

"Prat," she says, nudging me with an elbow and failing to hide a smile.

"So, Harry," I say, "are you ready for tonight?"

He sighs. "I guess as ready as I'll ever be. At least you both will be there."

"Well, there's a bit of a problem with that," I say.

"What?" Hermione asks, snapping her head to me.

"Well," I drawl, "I have it on good authority that your date, Harry, is going to blow people's minds when they see how drop-dead gorgeous she is. We'll be lucky to see her above all the boys tripping over each other just trying to get a closer look and get her to dance with them."

"Oh hush," Hermione says, cheeks pinking slightly.

"Great, now who am I going to dance with?" Harry says, frowning.

"I don't know, Harry, I just don't know," I say with mock consternation. "I'll hold them off as long as I can, but after the Champions dance they'll be circling like vultures."

He grunts, playing along. "What about you? _Maybe_ I can run interference for half a dance or so before I'm overwhelmed. What was I thinking, asking the most beautiful woman in the school?"

I sigh exaggeratedly. "I guess we'll have to settle for second-rate beauties like Fleur for our dancing needs."

"Quit being silly," Hermione says, cheeks thoroughly tinted red by now.

"Are you being silly, William? I'm not," Harry says.

"Me neither. I got dibs on complimenting her first when she comes out," I say.

He gasps. "No way! She's my date!"

"Should have claimed dibs, then," I say smugly.

"She's my date so I automatically get dibs!" Harry looks confused a moment. "Whatever those are."

"I suppose there is some sense in that," I grumble. "How about this: you get overall first compliment, I get first compliment of a specific feature, area, or body part."

"That's a possibility," he says, "which one?"

"Well, obviously I won't know until I see her," I point out.

"That's awfully open-ended, but I suppose that is acceptable," he says. "I'm betting you'll go for the eyes."

"Oh, don't get me started on those deep, milk chocolate pools of wonder if you don't want me to melt right here in the corridor."

"Lucky bastard," he growls. "Well, I got dibs on the second compliment of a specific feature."

"Damn! Nice call. You know I'm going to swipe the second overall compliment, but all bets are off after that."

"I'm going to Silence the both of you as soon as I see you," Hermione says, her face now thoroughly red.

"Actually, she has a point, Harry," I say. "I'm pretty sure as soon as I see her I'll lose the ability to form any sort of coherent thought, let alone a string of intelligible words."

"Brilliant as always, Hermione," Harry says, patting her on the back. "But William, you, lose the ability to speak? I'll believe it when I see it."

I laugh right along with both of them at that.

"Yeah, he—" Hermione begins, but she suddenly goes rigid, followed by Harry. I turn and see Draco and his minions, along with Pansy and hers. Draco has gone as rigid as the two at my side, staring at Harry, while Pansy is splitting her death glare among the three of us.

I step in front of Harry and Hermione to break the staring match, then start walking forward, keeping to the right side of the corridor. Draco clenches his jaw and focuses his eyes down the corridor, then starts walking down the other side. Pansy snaps her eyes to Draco in surprise, but the rest of their group follows without a word. We pass without incident, and remain quiet for a full minute after their footfalls fade into the background noise.

"Looks like Ms. Parkinson doesn't get it yet," I say quietly.

Hermione lets out a relieved breath as the tension drains from the corridor. "Bloody hell, William, it's really true what Daphne said, isn't it? He's changed."

* * *

A/N:

Wikipedia says that both 'happy' and 'merry' are common Christmas greetings in the UK. I chose the latter because, as a 'merkin, the former sounds awkward to me. I may be misremembering, but I think it's only in the first movie that they say 'happy' anyway.

I think in the first movie, gifts were piled at the foot of their beds, but for some reason I have it in my head that all the presents were piled at the tree in the common room. I'm too lazy to check and my Google-fu was too weak to find the answer, though. I'm not going to fix it if I'm mistaken since it would ruin this chapter structurally, but I'd still appreciate knowing for future reference.

By the way, when I talk about rune schemes, I'm drawing significant inspiration from jbern's _Bungle in the Jungle_ and its sequel _Turn Me Loose_, both subtitled _A Harry Potter Adventure_. And both are awesome. The difference with runes in my story is the depth with which I delve into the Elder Futhark runes; jbern is more generic about it.

I once read a fic that pointed out the oddity of the platypus to Luna, and I thought that was pretty funny. Unfortunately I don't remember which fic that is.

UPDATE: A reviewer led me to the still unfinished yet classic _Harry Potter and the Nightmares of Futures Past_ by S'Tarkan for the platypus reference. That story has now been up for seven years and has ten thousand reviews. Yeah, it might have canon pairings, but can you really pass up a story with ten thousand reviews?

R & R, C & C


	17. Chapter 17: The Yule Balls

Disclaimer: I tried to call possession of the rights to Harry Potter, but JK Rowling transcends even the immortal and immutable force that is 'dibs.'

Somebody pointed out to me that calling myself a 'merkin might mean something hilariously different to some of you than simply 'stupid American.' For your amusement, I have no qualms about continuing to refer to myself as a pubic wig. I think it's quite fitting considering the title of this chapter, as well.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Seventeen: The Yule Balls**

"They're coming," Harry says, causing me to drop my wand. Since I can't actually use it for its intended purpose, I'm practicing twirling it around in my fingers because I think it probably looks cool. It probably doesn't. Undaunted, I pick it up and resume twirling.

"Will you stop that?" Hermione asks in an irritated voice. "Are you nervous or something?"

I wonder at that. "I don't think so. Hey, Hermione, pretend I'm good at this for a minute. Does it look cool?"

"What? No."

"Really? How about it, Harry? Pretend I'm good at it." I try to turn to him while I'm twirling, but the wand soon clatters to the floor once again.

"It's kinda hard to pretend that," he says honestly while I pick my wand back up and he puts the Map away, "because it looks really awkward right now."

"Screw you guys," I say with a sniff. "I'm convinced it'll look awesome once I get better at it."

Hermione scoffs, which draws my attention back to her and makes the wand slip from my fingers, but I trap it against my leg. When I stand back up, the tall, dark figure of Blaise is turning the corner, followed by Tracey and the pair of raven-haired sisters. I smile, which only grows when Blaise scowls. I'm pleased to see Astoria smiling as well.

"Thank you for passing along my message, Mr. Zabini, Ms. Davis. It's a pleasure to see you again Daphne, Astoria." The latter gets a wide smile from me. "Astoria, these are my dear friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," I turn to them with a grin. "This is the beautiful young lady I couldn't stop telling you about, Astoria Greengrass." I turn back to see her blushing. "We are still on for the Ball tonight, aren't we?"

"We are," she says, "and it's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger." She gives an adorable little curtsey.

"And you, Ms. Greengrass," Hermione says.

"So William somehow swindled you into going, eh?" Harry says with a grin.

She laughs and the three of them begin chatting about me and about the Ball, but I turn to Daphne and my amused smile fades at her blank face. I step around Astoria and move closer to split our group into separate conversations. Daphne sends a quick glance to Tracey, who grabs Blaise and goes over to stand by Astoria.

"I'm sorry about last week, Daphne," I say without preamble.

She lets out a breath and looks away. "You just...I wasn't ready for that and you surprised me. I'm sorry I Stunned you."

We both shift uncomfortably, so I decide to lighten the mood. "I told Astoria that I'd ask before I do that again, and maybe I'll back away next time, too."

Daphne coughs to cover a chuckle, then surprises me by stepping forward and giving me an awkward hug, as if she's trying to make sure we're touching as little as possible. I'm shocked enough that I resist the temptation to squish her. "Be sure that you do."

She steps away with a barely perceptible blush. "Just to be clear," I say with a mock-serious expression, "you can do that whenever you want, though next time I can't promise I won't hug you back harder."

She tries to suppress a smile. "Don't hold your breath."

"You realize I'm going to ask you to dance tonight," I point out.

"Yes, I had assumed it was unavoidable," she says with the same hidden amusement.

"You are wise to dread it, actually," I say. "Despite Hermione's tutelage I'm still a horrendous dancer. I consider only stepping on my partner's toes once a great victory."

"Don't listen to him, he's not that bad anymore," Hermione cuts in. I realize they had stopped speaking back there; they must have been stunned into silence when Daphne hugged me. "He didn't step on my toes a single time yesterday."

"You've been practicing?" Astoria asks in surprise.

"Well, yeah," I say with an embarrassed shrug. "Harry has to dance in front of everybody—"

"Ugh, don't remind me," he says disgustedly.

"—and I am motivated to avoid putting my dance partners into the Hospital Wing," I finish. "It only makes sense."

"But where'd you get the music?" Tracey looks quite interested, and a quick glance at Astoria shows the same.

"That would be one of my secrets," I say with a mysterious smile.

Hermione chuckles and shakes her head. "You and your secrets, William."

Harry clears his throat. "Why don't we show them?"

I stare at him in surprise, then turn to the Slytherins with an apologetic look. "Excuse us a moment, please," I say, then I grab Harry and Hermione and walk a short distance away where I put up a privacy charm. I turn my back on them in case one of them can read lips.

"What's wrong, William?" Hermione asks.

"I just want to make sure we're on the same page," I say quickly. "I'm okay with showing them if they don't see you setting up the Room and we don't tell them about how it works. But even that's risky. Did you forget how bad it would be if certain people, including professors, find out about the Room?"

"I remember you saying that, but I don't remember being terribly convinced," Hermione says, frowning slightly at my tone. "Besides, when Luna tried to get in, we found out she couldn't open it while we were in there."

I sigh. "If you tell the Room that you need to hide something, you'll find the Room of Hidden Things. There are at least two dangerous things in there, probably more. First, remember I told you where the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw is." Harry and Hermione pale at that so I nod firmly. "Yes, the Horcrux, which is dangerous for either of us to handle, if it's not outright painful for Harry. Remember Ginny two years ago? There's another thing, too: a broken vanishing cabinet. The matching cabinet is currently in the possession of a shady character. Vanishing cabinets allow somebody to travel between the two instantly, bypassing any and all wards between them."

"B-but what about if Professors find out?" Hermione asks. "How is that bad?"

"Remember the tattoo their Head of House has on his arm? Remember Quirrell?"

"But you said Snape's on our side, and Quirrell's gone!"

"The point is, Dumbledore is not perfect. If it gets out..." Obviously I'm thinking of Crouch/Moody here...I really don't want him to gain any sort of advantage over us whatsoever. The less he knows about how I'm helping Harry, the better, even though he's probably already dismissed the knowledge that I'm helping him as unimportant.

"Okay, okay, we'll follow your suggestion," Harry says. "It won't do any harm even if there is nothing to worry about, right? So let's go ahead and open the Room, and we'll keep how it works a secret."

Hermione bites her lip then nods. "Okay."

I drop the privacy charm. "Sorry about that, let's walk for a bit," I say, smiling again.

"This better not be a trap, Lerner," Zabini says, eyes narrowed.

Tracey rolls her eyes. "Come on, Blaise, I want to see."

"If this is dangerous at all..." Daphne warns, glancing at her sister.

"Oh no, not at all. We're just headed to a particular room. Follow me, please." I consider offering my arm to Daphne, but I feel like I lost some of the ground I gained earlier when I took Harry and Hermione aside. So I offer it to Astoria instead with a grin. "The view is beautiful from up here, is it not?"

"Lerner..." Daphne says in warning.

"Sorry, Daphne, I would have offered you my arm but you looked like you might hex it off," I say. "Besides, Astoria's my date and I wouldn't want to make her feel slighted in any way."

Astoria giggles and takes it, and we walk leisurely around the corner. Astoria and I are in front, followed by Daphne and then Blaise and Tracey. Harry and Hermione are at the back. We make it just out of sight of the normal entrance before Daphne speaks up. "Why are we walking so slow?"

I hear the faint groaning and grinding of stone in the background. "Enjoying the view, of course! But I made a mistake, we accidentally passed the entrance." I turn around and walk the other direction at a more brisk pace.

"But we didn't pass any..." Daphne trails off when we come upon Harry standing in front of the door smiling.

"Right this way, please," he says.

I take a moment to enjoy the gasps and expressions of surprise when we all enter the Room. There is a large, slick-looking dance floor in the center, a slightly raised stage against the far wall with a collection of musical instruments which I know are enchanted, a row of comfortable chairs along both sides, and decorative, plush red curtains cinched up all around the room. Hermione had hurried over to get the enchanted instruments going, but they weren't playing yet when the door melted back into the wall.

Daphne has her wand out in a second. "What's going on?" Blaise pulls his wand out as well.

"Oops, sorry, I suppose I should have warned you about that," I say sheepishly. "This is where we practice."

Right on cue, the instruments begin playing a slow tune, and Harry, seeing the discomfort of the newcomers, begins dancing with Hermione.

"Why did the door disappear?" Daphne demands, pointing her wand at me.

"We didn't want to leave it open for anyone else," I say, "it will come back when we want to leave."

"I want to leave," she says immediately.

"Oh, come on, Daph, what's the problem? We've got plenty of time before dinner! Now let's go, William, dance with me!" Astoria says, grabbing my hand and dragging me out to the floor.

Suddenly I'm quite nervous, but Astoria unhesitatingly tucks my right hand behind her back, lays her left on my chest, and then clasps my free hand. Muscle memory takes over and soon we're slowly twirling around the dance floor.

"Are you nervous?" Astoria asks in surprise.

"Yes," I say honestly.

She laughs at that. "You don't even flinch when my sister points her wand at you several times – even after she Stunned you last time – but you're nervous about dancing?"

"Talking my way out of getting hexed requires far less skill than dancing with a pretty girl," I say with my usual grin.

She arches an eyebrow in a most Daphne-like fashion. "As opposed to an ugly one?"

"You got me there," I admit, "but that just goes to show that girls like you do wreak havoc on my mental faculties."

"Except your ability to flirt, apparently," she says.

"Sorry," I say with a grin, "it's habitual at this point."

"Uh huh. Ready for a spin and dip?"

"Absolutely n—" I begin, but she spins herself away, smiling brightly, then curls herself back in close. Instinctively I place my hand on her back and she elegantly arches back over it, surprising me with how little weight she puts on my hand.

"Back straight, and don't lean over so far, I won't fall," she instructs, adjusting the position of my body while still arched over my hand.

"Uh, sorry," I say eloquently.

She laughs softly when she pulls herself back up and we continue the dance. "Apparently you do have your limits."

I raise an eyebrow. "Testing me, are you?"

"I'm only trying to ensure I have an acceptable dance partner, of course."

"Sorry about your luck, then."

"Oh no, I suppose you'll just have to do," she says, sighing dramatically while hiding a smile. "Unfortunately."

The song changes after a few more loops, so we break apart and I see that Daphne, Blaise, and Tracey are still standing where we left them, looking uncomfortable. The latter seems to be uncomfortable because she wants to dance, though. "You should go cut in with Harry and give him some pointers, too," I tell Astoria. "I'll go ask Daphne."

She smiles at me. "You sure you want to risk it?"

I grin back. "Asking is the easy part." Astoria goes in the opposite direction while I head toward Daphne, holding out my hand in invitation when I reach her. "May I have this dance, Daphne?"

She presses her lips together and gives me her icy stare. I let her eyes bore into mine without dropping my crooked smile. "Fine."

My smile widens and I lead her out to the dance floor, where Astoria is twirling away with an uncomfortable-looking Harry while Hermione looks a bit sullen. Daphne stands more rigidly at first, but she loosens up as we move along.

"You won't be trying those moves on me," Daphne says.

"I wouldn't dream of trying my moves on you," I say with a smile that earns a glare. "Besides, the spin and dip was all Astoria's doing."

Her eyes widen slightly and then she turns a frown on her sister.

"She was pointing out how ridiculous I am for being nervous to dance with her even though I don't flinch when you point your wand at me," I say.

"That's not the only reason you're ridiculous," she says coolly.

"Like wanting to be your friend despite your intense dislike for me?"

"Quit being so dramatic. My dislike for you is not that strong."

I laugh. "You say the sweetest things to me."

She snorts but says nothing. After a few moments her expression turns serious again. "Remember, you promised not to involve my sister in any of your plots."

"And I will keep that promise," I reply, just as seriously.

She stares at me a moment before replying. "Well, then, why aren't you involving me?"

I lift my eyebrows. "I'm not sure you dislike me little enough yet."

Her glare makes it clear that she does not find this amusing.

I sigh. "Look, I like you, Daphne, but you don't really give off the same impression about me. It's fine when we're in public, but among friends..." I shake my head. "Put yourself in my shoes: do you think I should trust you right now with a secret that could very well mean my death?"

"I already know enough to irreparably damage your cause," she points out with a frown.

I try not to show my concern as I realize the truth of that statement. "True, but you don't know enough to get me pretty much immediately killed, yet."

"I wouldn't do that," she says quietly.

I wish I could do whatever it is that she does to tell if I'm being truthful. Instead I simply remain quiet for a few moments, formulating a response. "If I were a Slytherin, wouldn't you expect me to consider that everything you do might be a calculated ploy to extract my secrets? Wouldn't you expect me to make sure that, if you are just using me to further your own goals, those goals coincide with mine?"

Her eyes snap to mine. "Not every Slytherin is like that!"

I snort. "No, certainly not every Slytherin is smart enough to pull that off, but you are. Wouldn't it be awfully foolish of me to not consider an angle like that? So you see my dilemma. I want your input, Daphne. Harry's idea of a good plan is if everybody is safe but him. Hermione's is if everybody's safe, no compromises. Maybe your cunning will be enough to work a better plan, but if not...I need somebody who's capable of looking at our options with objectivity. But first I need to make sure that an objective observer doesn't decide that the best plan for her is to betray my secrets. Not that I think that's what you'd do! But it's like I said: I need cold, hard logic, not hunches based on gut feelings or just hope."

She was going to protest when I said 'betray my secrets' but I cut her off when I plowed ahead, and now I see her considering her response. "You know my family is not like the Malfoys, who marry only for status. Do you know why? It's because my father places a high value on happiness. You saw how I almost snapped when you implied I might betray you. A Greengrass would not betray someone lightly, and I've already said I would help you."

I look into her ice-blue eyes, once again wishing I knew whatever trick she uses to detect truthfulness. "But what am I to you? Would it even affect your happiness if I wasn't around anymore?"

"If it were a direct result of my actions, it would affect me very much," she says.

"So if it wasn't a direct result..." I trail off, letting her complete the thought.

Her eyes remain on mine for a moment, then fall away. "...I would still be unhappy."

We remain silent for several moments. "If that's the case you have an unusual way of showing it," I say softly.

"I still have trouble believing it myself," she says. "Sometimes you can be more infuriating than every other boy combined, and other times..."

I smile when she trails off. "Maybe I'm purposely infuriating sometimes to trick you into liking me the rest of the time."

She snorts. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"So my trick worked," I say triumpantly, "I told you often enough that you like me, and now you finally believe it."

"You did nothing of the sort, don't flatter yourself."

"Flattery is my specialty, beautiful lady."

"If that's the case I am not impressed."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

She snorts again. "You really do have the infuriating part down."

"It wouldn't be so effective otherwise," I say with a laugh. "Hermione doesn't call me the Moment Ruiner for nothing."

She laughs her real laugh this time at that. "That's a perfect description of you." She glances over my shoulders. "Speaking of Hermione, you should go dance with her. She doesn't look terribly happy with you." She notices my frown. "What's the deal between you two? Or the three of you?"

I sigh. "Just like I told your father. I love her but I can't be with her. Harry loves her but he doesn't think he can be with her either. She loves both of us."

"Sounds like at least two of you are being stupid," she says wryly.

I nod. "I'm stupid because I can't push her away. Harry's stupid because we're going to get him through this. Hermione...is an unfortunate victim of our stupidity. I would say she's stupid for not keeping her distance from me, but I can't give her the real reason why she should."

"Sounds like you're being extra stupid, then," she amends.

"No, I mean, _I_ know why I can't be with her," I clarify, "but I can't tell her the whole story."

"Your secrets again?"

I nod sadly. "It's bad, Daphne. Really bad. I just...can't."

"If you're using me to push her away," she says slowly, "it might just be working."

My face heats in embarrassment. "Sorry. I don't mean to use you-"

"I am in Slytherin," she says with a shrug. "If you can use someone without hurting them..." She trails off to let me finish the thought myself.

I sigh. "I admit I considered it, but it would hurt me too much to push her away completely, and I need her."

"You are a strange man, William," she says, shaking her head. "Go, then. I will see how well Harry dances."

I look up at her hopefully. "How did I do?"

She looks back at me over her shoulder with a thoughtful expression. "You may dance with me tonight."

I shoot her one last small smile before walking over to Hermione and asking for the next dance.

She watches me with narrowed eyes. "You two looked cozy."

"I told her your nickname for me, the Moment Ruiner," I say with a half smile. "She sends her compliments."

Her eyes widen, and her lips press together to suppress her growing smile.

"After that she asked about us, and I told her about how I love you," I say. "She thinks I'm stupid for trying to push you away."

She lays her head against my chest. "She said that?"

"Yeah, but then she doesn't know the story about how I got here," I point out.

I feel as much as hear her heavy sigh. "Are you going to tell her?"

"Probably not."

She takes a deep breath. "What if she decides she wants you for herself?"

I shake my head. "She did admit she likes me, but I don't think she means it that way. Or at least, definitely not the way I feel about you. If I can't be with you, then I can't be with her either."

I can practically feel her frown against my chest. "Even so, I have to admit I got jealous seeing you happy with her like that."

I chuckle grimly. "I have to fight pangs of jealousy every time I see you with Harry, even though I know you both deserve each other. Harry might feel the same way about us, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was just happy. He's a better man than I am."

She shudders. "If that's the way I make both of you feel all the time...maybe we shouldn't spend so much time together."

"I think about that all the time, but I'm not strong enough to stay away from you," I say softly. "You're worth it."

She doesn't respond except with another heavy sigh.

"Daphne did reaffirm that she wants to help, at least," I say.

"Is that all she said?"

I grin. "Well, that and the part where she admitted that she likes me, too."

"You told her that enough she finally believed you, eh?"

I laugh at that. Hermione didn't think that was so amusing when I pulled it on her. "She doesn't think it worked on her, but I know better."

She laughs, too. "It is a neat trick. I think you're just impossible not to like."

"Must be my many masks," I say sagely.

She tilts her head back to show me a raised eyebrow. "She likes a different William than I do, then?"

I shrug. "She has different experiences with me than you. I'm sure I love at least a slightly different Hermione than Harry does. But those two versions of me have one thing in common: she doesn't think I'm as funny as I think I am either."

She replaces her head back on my chest and I feel her smile as we enjoy the rest of the dance in silence. When we turn I see that Daphne is speaking with Harry, and Astoria is working on Blaise with Tracey now. The youngest Slytherin catches me smiling at them and stomps away from the stubborn boy towards me and Hermione.

"We've got to do something about them," she says in a huff. "I can tell Tracey is dying to dance but Blaise is just being a prat."

Hermione lifts her head when Astoria starts talking, then looks up at me. "William, you should dance with Tracey. That ought to motivate him."

I laugh. "Easy for you to say, you aren't the one in danger of getting hexed."

"That hasn't stopped you before," Astoria points out.

I nod, acknowledging the point and Hermione laughs. "No, it really hasn't. I like her, William."

Astoria looks surprised at first at the openness of Hermione's declaration, but then beams at the bushy-haired Gryffindor. We quickly finalize plans to get Tracey and Blaise out onto the dance floor, and Astoria heads back to the pair with a sneaky smile.

"You were right, William, she is adorable," Hermione says, then mutters, "and she's going to be gorgeous in a couple years."

In response I pull her back against my chest and kiss her on top of the head just as the song ends. Hermione gives me one last squeeze and thanks me, then goes over to Harry and Daphne to explain the plan, and I head over to Tracey. Blaise expression turns furious when I hold out my hand. "Pardon me, Ms. Davis. May I have this dance?"

When he makes no move to get up or stop me, Tracey shoots him a glare, then turns to me with a forced smile, takes my hand, and lets me lead her out to the dance floor. Daphne gives us a small smile as she walks over to help Astoria.

"Sorry, this was all Hermione and Astoria's idea," I say as we get into position.

She puts on an exaggerated pout. "You don't want to dance with me?"

I snort. "That's right, it's simply torture being here, dancing at our own private Yule Ball with four beautiful women." I step on her toes when she misses a step, and I stumble trying to avoid putting too much weight on her. I feel my face turning red. "Sorry about that, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just didn't..." she trails off, then pulls me back into position and we start back up. "Sorry, that was my fault, I'm not used to hearing something like that when I'm friends with..." She trails off and blushes when she realizes what she was about to say.

I smile encouragingly. "Hermione calls me a shameless flirt, but frankly I think I just call it like I see it." It's true, Tracey doesn't have the same lithe form as Hermione and Daphne, but with her curves and her face, she's anything but plain.

She shakes her head. "No, I think I get it. You compliment everybody, even Draco. Nobody expects it, so it pretty much always gives you the upper hand."

"Ah, don't go sharing my secrets now, Ms. Davis. You know how protective of them I am." I notice her smile falter. "But for the record, I was telling the truth about dancing with four beautiful women. Uh, the beautiful part, that is. Not the torture part."

She snorts. "Or maybe Hermione was right all along."

"She usually is. Look, it seems to have worked." I nod my head toward Daphne and Astoria, who have bodily dragged Blaise out to the dance floor, where Astoria wiggles her way into position. Tracey laughs at the spectacle when he finally relents and lets Astoria lead him around. "What's the deal between the three of you, Ms. Davis? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"I don't mind you asking, but I don't know the answer myself." She sighs. "Blaise is like you, unfailingly formal, except he's rather stiff about it. Actually, while we're on the subject, I get enough unctuous formality from him, William, so lay off the potion and call me Tracey, would you?" We share a laugh at that memory, but her face turns sad again. "I think he's interested in Daphne, like everybody else. He confides in me more than her, but he's never talked about or shown much romantic interest in either of us."

"What about you?"

She blushes. "I'd rather not talk about it. But Daphne is the same way as he is." Tracey looks at me askance. "She hasn't said it, but I think she likes you."

"She does, she told me a little bit ago," I say with a smirk.

This causes her to miss a step again, though luckily we're turning the other way this time so my foot is moving in the opposite direction. "She _what_?"

"Yeah, I think my gift of truth rubbed off on her a bit," I say, still laughing. "I don't know if she likes me _that_ way, but..."

"So are you going to ask her..." her brows knit together. "...but what about Granger? The way you guys..." she trails off, looking confused.

I sigh heavily. "Unfortunately we are not and will not be together. In either case, if Daph does turn out to like me that way."

"Why not?"

I'm quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. I really don't want to go into it again, especially because Astoria will probably ask, too. "Secrets," I say. She cocks her head and looks at me strangely but says nothing. After a minute of continued silent and somewhat mechanical waltzing, the earlier thought of Astoria triggers a feeling of odd discomfort. Then it hits me. "Oh yeah! I knew I was forgetting something!"

"What?"

"I meant to thank Daphne and Astoria for the gifts," I say. "Did they, um, mention what I made them?"

She cocks her head back in surprise. "You _made_ their gifts?"

"Ah, yeah, well..." I trail off, my face turning red.

"They didn't mention them," she says softly.

My heart sinks. "Well, that's to be expected, I suppose. They're probably used to much nicer."

"I'm sure they were just distracted since I told them about coming here as soon as they got in," she offers.

"Mm," I say, trying to avoid speaking so I don't have to try and keep the disappointment out of my voice. After a few more moments, the song ends. "Thank you for the dance, Ms. Da—"

"Tracey," she corrects me.

"Tracey, I mean," I say with a smile. She smiles back and gives a little curtsey before marching toward Blaise to demand a dance. I head over to Daphne, who had sat out that song after convincing the Slytherin boy to dance. "Hey Daphne, I forgot to thank you for my gift...I didn't get a chance to look through the book much, because thanks to Hermione they have a 'no reading at the tree' rule since we'd never get through our piles. But it looks wonderful, thank you."

She chuckles when I describe the rule. "I'm glad you like it." Then her face turns serious and she speaks quietly. "I thought you said you just made a silly thing...but none of those things you made were silly. The frame is beautiful; it must have taken you forever."

I blush at her obviously sincerity. "Well the picture deserved a good frame."

She snorts. "I can't believe you actually got a picture of that. You planned that whole conversation, didn't you?"

I smile victoriously. "Well, I positioned us properly and told him to catch your smile. The rest was left to chance."

"Chance..._perth_."

"Just so."

She smiles at me and shakes her head. "And paired with _gebo_...that is exceedingly clever considering that he caught you fake begging and me turning around."

I smile sadly. "I gambled, hoping you'd take it that way. The other way..." Her smile fades. "I do wish—"

"Don't say it," she cuts in, holding her hand up to stave off my wish that things could be different. "Just don't. Thank you for the medallion as well. I assume you think that was clever as well?"

I chuckle softly. "I once heard somebody refer to you as the Ice Queen, hence the tiara with _isaz_ runes."

She arches an eyebrow. "Ice Queen? Very funny. And I suppose the _kaunan _on the back represents you, to melt my frozen heart?"

"I'm sure you must be reading too much into it," I say with a wide grin.

"I'm sure," she says in a way that clearly means she doesn't believe me. "And the stones? I thought you made all of your gifts?"

"I did."

Her eyes widen. "How did you—?"

"How did he do what?" Astoria asks as she joins us.

"He made those lantern and shield ward stones himself," Daphne says, not taking her eyes off me.

The younger girl's eyes widen in shock as well, making me blush. "That's...that's..."

"Well, I wanted to give you both something useful, since I couldn't make the carvings do anything," I say with an embarrassed shrug.

"That's really impressive, William. Really," she says sincerely, causing me to blush deeper, which in turn causes her to smile. "Speaking of the carvings, did you realize the meaning behind Astoria's pendant?" Daphne asks. "Your note to her didn't mention it."

I'm surprised to see Astoria pull it out from under her robe. A relatively thick, blackened snake curls protectively around around a large, pale egg; the neck of the snake lifts up off the top of the egg, drops back down to touch the tip, then lifts back up. A small _algiz_ rune is carved in the bottom of the egg. There is a long, thin black string that is threaded through the loop formed by the snake's neck and then disappears under her robes.

"I don't remember," I say honestly, "it came to me when I was trying to decide what to carve, and the idea just wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't have a lot of time, so I went with it."

Daphne looks into my eyes and I assume finds the truth. "It's from Greek mythology; Ophion is a serpent who coils around an egg lain by the supreme goddess Eurynome, out of which the universe is born. My family traces its roots back to ancient Greece, and by tradition the Greengrass family gives their children Greek names. Mine means laurel, Astoria is a form of Astraea, the star-maiden."

"Wow," is all I can say. I really had no idea.

Daphne chuckles. "You really didn't know what effect it might have. And here I thought you were being exceedingly clever, though I was a bit concerned at the message you might be trying to send."

"My mother was practically ready to sign a marriage contract," Astoria says with some amusement, which then fades, "until my father told her about your—er, you."

I grimace a bit. "Ah, you heard about that, did you?"

Astoria nods her head and Daphne frowns apologetically. "Sorry, William, I didn't know he was going to tell her."

I shrug. "It's okay, as long as she hasn't changed her mind about the Ball tonight."

"I haven't," Astoria says firmly.

"Well, good, 'cause I'm not giving back the tie, cufflinks and studs, or the boutineer! So—" I say, sticking my tongue out.

Astoria giggles at my childish display.

"Thank you for those, by the way, they look really fancy. I'm glad we'll match, now. Some of my friends didn't believe I was going with the prettiest girl in the school, but when I show up with—ow! That's right where Hermione always hits me!" I mock glare at Daphne.

"You shouldn't have told her that," Astoria says, still giggling.

"Aw, crap."

* * *

"Ugh, these ruffles are awful," Ron laments again.

"I dunno, I think they kind of go well with the longer hair," I say. They kinda do, it makes him look like an old vampire or something.

"They're not even noticeable if you don't fidget with them all the time," Harry points out.

He still fidgets. We're outside the Great Hall with Harry and Ron watching the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower, Neville watching the opposite stairs toward Ravenclaw Tower, and me watching the corridor that leads to the Slytherin dungeons. It occurs to me that I didn't even ask Daphne who her date was. Oh well, I suppose I'll find out soon.

Luna is the first of our dates to appear, and she looks...well, like Luna: a bizarre, ethereal beauty in a ruffly gray dress that matches her large gray eyes. Her normally straggly blonde hair is elegantly pulled back except a pair of thin, loose waves falling down either side of her face, partially obscuring her large silver earrings encrusted with purple gems. The dark violet flowers in the corsage on her left wrist are surrounded with glittering silvery tendrils and hoops, and she has a similar decoration on her right wrist without the flowers.

"Wow, Luna looks beautiful," Harry says sincerely, glancing at Neville.

"She does. Mouth closed, Neville," I say jokingly, clapping him on the back as he makes his way toward her.

Parvati actually comes down the Gryffindor stairs with Padma; the pair of them dressed in what I think (based on my extensive experience entirely based on a particular Bollywood movie I've seen) are some kind of traditional Indian dresses. Parvati is wearing amber trimmed in crimson, while Padma is wearing crimson trimmed in amber. They both have their hair parted in the center with a silvery chain draped down the center, from which a small pendant hangs near the top of their foreheads. The chain splits into three near the top of the heads, wraps their hair, and comes from behind their heads to attach to their earrings. Their wrists are adorned with stacks of colorful bangles. It's completely different from what the rest of the girls are wearing – even the other Asian girls, but the twins pull it off extremely well. Padma splits off and meets with a Ravenclaw boy I don't recognize, while Parvati comes to Ron. The pair of them clash horribly despite the almost identical shade of crimson.

An intake of breath from Harry signals the arrival of Hermione, which I quickly spin to catch. She's walking down the stairwell slowly and slightly unsteadily on the silver heels that she'd only worn during our practice sessions. The heels peek out from long cascades of wispy, pale blue ruffles, which coalesce into a snug bodice held up by very thin strips of material over her shoulders. Her hair completely lacks any hint of its usual bushiness: it's slicked back and pulled up except for a few seemingly random yet elegant ringlets falling to her shoulders. The only jewelry is a thin silver necklace and small, silver drop earrings.

Before I realize it, Hermione is standing in front of us, clearing her throat. I recover enough just to nudge Harry.

"Uh...er...wow!" he says eloquently.

Hermione smiles coyly, clearly enjoying the effect she's having on us.

"Hermione, you look..." I begin, but the act of speaking aloud restarts my thought processes. I'm supposed to let Harry go first, and I don't think saying 'wow' counts.

"...beautiful," Harry says. I nod dumbly.

"You guys are doing that on purpose," she says, pursing her lips to hide a smirk.

I remember I only get to compliment a single feature, but I'm having trouble choosing one. At least one that might be appropriate with everybody else around. "Um, your...hair...looks amazing."

She blushes at our behavior, then, after a commotion behind me, glances over my shoulder. "You may want to save your eloquence for that, William." She gestures for me to turn around, and when I do I see the Greengrass sisters emerge from Slytherin corridor. Daphne has a form-fit, shimmering dark green dress that only slightly flares out below her hips and just barely reaches her ankles, showing off her glittering gold, strappy heels and a hint of the shapely calves underneath. The delicate gold jewelry accentuates the outfit perfectly.

Astoria fully looks the part of a princess as well, her violet gown sporting layers of sheer, shimmering material over her shoulders and across her top. The color accentuates her eyes perfectly. It flares out slightly at her waist to give her a more curvy-looking figure than her age allows. Her shoes and jewelry are the same platinum and amethyst as my new cufflinks and studs.

Once again they appear in front of me before I even realize it.

"You're staring, William," Daphne says with a hint of a smile.

"I think you broke him," Hermione says, giggling.

"Pardon me, my ability to form rational thoughts has been forcibly suspended by the three goddesses around me," I say in a mechanical voice. "I'm not entirely sure my brain hasn't melted trying to come up with satisfactory adjectives for your regularly-scheduled compliments."

"While he mops up his brain, I must say you look beautiful, Hermione," Daphne says, smiling.

This evokes an even deeper blush than either Harry or I got out of her. "Thank you, Daphne. You're even more beautiful than usual."

This breaks the logjam in my brain. "Damn it, Harry, we just got our asses kicked at our own game. By another girl, no less!"

"Language, William," Hermione scolds playfully. "There are ladies present."

"You've got it wrong," I say, "there were at most a couple dumbstruck mortals and a trio of minor deities within earshot."

"You look positively ravishing, Dav-nee," a heavily accented voice says from over my shoulder. I turn to see Daphne's hand lifted to the lips of none other than Viktor Krum.

A quick round of introductions follows. "Positively ravishing, William, does that cover it?" Astoria asks playfully.

"Actually, I'd already discarded mere adjectives as insufficient – no offense, Mr. Krum. How can a mere pair of words convey the depth of your divine beauty when the High Choir of the Seraphim itself would weep at their collective hideousness in your presence?"

"Truly, your gift of hyperbole is astounding," Hermione says as she and Daphne roll her eyes at me.

I laugh. "I call it the gift of truth, but your modesty is quite becoming, my dears."

"Mr. Lerner, if you would please make your way into the Hall; the Champions will soon be making their entrance," Professor McGonagall says. I'm startled to see that only the four Champions and their dates are still out here.

"My apologies, Professor," I say. "See you on the dance floor, ladies, gentlemen." I turn to another Champion. "Mr. Davies; Ms. Delacour, may I say you look positively ravishing tonight." I keep my smile pleasant despite the choking sounds behind me. A moment later Krum fully bursts into gravelly laughter. With a nod to a perplexed Cedric and Cho, I offer Astoria my arm and we enter our second Ball of the day.

* * *

"Harry, I may need your help for this next one," I say, as we sit out another more energetic song. I can fake my way through the slow ones, but my complete lack of rhythm destroys any chance of not looking like a fool during the fast ones. And hopefully we're about due for another slow one.

The bespectacled wizard raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

I nod. "After dancing with Susan, I've now danced with at least one girl from each of the four Hogwarts Houses."

Susan Bones is built rather solidly, like her aunt Amelia. So she was completely flabbergasted when I asked her to dance instead of the more lithe Hannah Abbott or one of the older, prettier Hufflepuffs that hang around Cedric Diggory. Hannah had to give her a shove when Susan protested much to the same effect. She was surprised when I knew that her aunt is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and she blushed as red as her hair when I told her I wanted to dance with her because I think she's pretty and I heard she was one of the few Hufflepuffs who never wore one of Draco's badges, not because of who her aunt is.

"And?" Harry asks, bringing my attention back to the present.

"Well, there are two other groups of students here," I say with a grin.

Harry's eyes widen. "You're not thinking of asking—?"

"I am. But I don't know if I'm up to resisting her aura...not for an entire dance. You are, though."

Harry frowns. "What about Hermione?"

I laugh. "Haven't you noticed? She won't have any trouble finding a dance partner."

"That's not what I meant," he says flatly.

"She just doesn't like Fleur because of how she makes boys react," I say, waving away the objection. "You don't react like that."

Harry sighs heavily.

"Besides, you're only one Hufflepuff short, Hermione will appreciate our attempt at fostering inter-school relations."

He snorts. "Is that what you call it?"

"Of course," I say in mock indignation. "What, you think I would try to dance with as many beautiful women as possible just for my own enjoyment?"

"Yes, who would in their right mind would do something like that?"

We slowly make our way across the Hall to position ourselves near the Beauxbatons delegation when Hermione spots us and gives us a questioning look. Harry shrugs and jerks a thumb at me and I give her a wink. She rolls her eyes and goes back to dancing with Ginny, Dean, and Seamus. I smile and shake my head. It's not fair that every single woman looks good when they dance, even one as bookish as Hermione or as bizarre as Luna. They must get a manual at birth or something.

The song ends and thankfully the next one is slow. Just as planned, a group of Beauxbatons girls is headed straight toward us with Fleur Delacour in the center. I'm beginning to sweat already. "Uh, Harry?"

"This is your show, William," he says with a chuckle.

"Next time talk me out of it," I mutter. Then, louder, "good evening, Ms. Delacour. We spoke earlier? My name is William Lerner." When her dark blue eyes meet mine, I feel a wave of desire to please her wash over me. I can feel blood rushing to my face, and an inane urge to show off somehow. It's enough to make me clamp my mouth shut and force it down.

"William," Harry says, nudging me.

"Ms. Delacour, I was wondering if you would do my the honor of—" my voice strains as she tilts her head forward slightly and the urges become stronger. My eyes flicker to the girl next to her, looking annoyed at me. "—of introducing your beautiful friend here."

Shocked silence reigns for several moments, until Harry clears his throat. "It's true, Fleur, he's been bugging me to accompany him all night. I don't suppose you would do me the honor of joining me for this dance?"

Her composure is quickly recovered when Harry speaks. "Of course, 'Arry." Then she turns to me with thinned lips. "Monsieur Lerner. _Zis_ is Veronique Dubois, _anuzzer _Seventh Year at Beauxbatons." She spins away and drags Harry out to the dance floor, and I immediately sag in relief as I feel the pressure lift.

"I can't believe you did that," Veronique says once she's recovered from the surprise. She seems to have far less of an accent than Fleur.

"I am partial to brunettes, Ms. Dubois," I say with a shrug as I offer her my hand. She accepts and allows me to lead her back out onto the dance floor.

Surprisingly she pulls me in as close as Hermione when we take our positions, but she doesn't seem to think it that big of a deal. "She will not be pleased that both of you resisted her aura...I could feel how strongly she was laying it on, you know. You did admirably, but your friend didn't even flinch."

I blow out my cheeks, thinking how relieved I was to get out of there. "I would not have lasted much longer, I think."

Her mottled green eyes search mine. "You were going to ask her, were you not?"

"I was," I admit. "But I do think I came out ahead of Harry in this one."

She snorts at that.

"Hey, I was telling the truth, I really do prefer brunettes," I insist. "The whole not having to struggle to maintain my sanity is just a bonus."

She finally smiles and shakes her head at my antics. I manage to wheedle quite a bit of information about Beauxbatons out of her, which I get the impression she is happy to provide since we're not talking about Fleur. I also found out that she had hoped to become the Beauxbatons Triwizard Champion since she gets better marks than Fleur in Defense, but apparently the Cup favored the quarter-Veela's abilities in Charms and Transfiguration. When she asks about Hogwarts I offer to show her around, but she doesn't take me seriously since I am supposedly a couple years younger than she is. When we part I say I'll see her around, but she just smiles indulgently as an older guy offers her his hand.

Continuing my misfortune, I had no particular target for Durmstrang, and the girl I asked ended up having a rather thick accent and didn't understand much of what I said. She also said I talked too much.

"I had to cover for you, William," Harry says when we meet back up. "Fleur thought you were making fun of her before we came in, and then when you asked about her friend..." He shakes his head and chuckles. "I had to duck my head behind you to hide my face, by the way."

"Thanks, and sorry about that," I say with a smile. "What'd you tell her about before?"

"I said you'd told a joke to Krum earlier and he was a little slow on the uptake with the language barrier, and that the girls were snickering at him."

"Nicely done! So she's not going to pull an aura sneak attack on me?"

"Well, no promises there, but I did get a kiss on both cheeks after the song," he finishes with a grin.

"Lucky bastard," I say. "Maybe I should go back and try a—"

Harry laughs to cut me off. "You go ahead and do that. I still need a Hufflepuff."

"In that case, I'll see if I can't grab Hermione and boast about my achievement," I say thoughtfully, "I've only danced with her once anyway."

Harry snorts.

"Did I say boast? I meant...uh...let her know what humble sacrifices I've made in the name of inter-school relations."

"Yes, I'm sure she'll see it that way," he says, smiling and shaking his head. "Good luck with that."

Unfortunately Hermione is already taken, dancing with Ron of all people. I admit to some measure of pride that my manipulations have made the Ball much more enjoyable for Harry, Ron, and the Patil twins – the latter are wonderful dancers, by the way. Continuing my wandering around the dance floor, I come upon a humming Luna, rocking back and forth on her heels with a pleased expression on her face. "Hello, Luna," I say pleasantly, attempting to emulate her mellifluous voice.

She smiles as if she notices that. "Hello, William," she says in a deep voice.

I laugh. Yep, she noticed. "May I have this dance?"

In response she takes my outstretched hand and allows me to guide her to the dance floor. As before she seems to float as she moves. One of the things I love about Luna is that silence is never awkward; she is content to be led and spun around the dance floor without a word, even if we're looking directly at each other. Although, that probably unnerves anybody outside of me, Harry, and Neville.

"Thank you for this year, William," Luna says, totally ruining my point about silence.

"What do you mean?"

"I have more friends than I've ever had before," she says, "I was friends with Ginny before Hogwarts, but she made a lot more friends when she got here. I didn't, until you came along."

I squeeze her against me, and she lays her head against my chest and sighs happily. "Nobody took the time to get to know you, and they've really missed out because of it. Stupid Ravenclaws."

"Oh, we're not that bad," she counters. "A lot of us are just shy, especially around new people."

"Well, maybe so, but the fact remains that they've missed out," I say. "I don't know how anybody could not love you."

This causes her to stiffen in my arms. "What did you say?"

"I said I don't know how anybody could not love you, once they get to know you. I know I do, and I'm sure Harry and Hermione do. Most likely Neville, too." At this point I'm practically carrying her around, but she's so light it's hardly noticeable.

"You...love me?"

I chuckle softly. "Yes, I love you. I had figured you noticed by now, the way you noticed Harry, Hermione, and me. I got to know you, didn't I? You're the most genuine person I know. In fact, I sort of adopted a bit of your personality since meeting you." I should have realized that when Hermione jokingly asked if Luna and I were related, but it didn't occur to me until today when I boasted about my gift of truth. "Although, I admit you're much better at acting like you than I am."

She doesn't answer for a short time. "I should hope so, I would feel quite redundant, otherwise."

That gets me shaking with laughter. "Oh, I think the world would be a far happier place with more Lunas in it. You, Neville, Harry, Hermione..."

"You, too," she says, but I shake my head and my mirth drains away.

"No, not me. You are all the best sort of people. At best I'm a poor imitation of you, and that's only one of my many acts. My masks."

She doesn't answer right away, but she relaxes and goes back to floating around the dance floor. "You use them for good, though. I stand by my previous statement."

I respond by holding her tighter. I don't have the heart to point out that she might change her mind, depending on what happens at the end of this year. Nor do I point out where roads paved with good intentions may lead. It's selfish, but just for now I want to pretend I'm the person she thinks I am. I can pretend that I feel like she understands on some level what I'm trying to do. We finish out the song in silence, as if she also knows what I'm getting from this. I love her for it.

"I sort of missed the moment, but I love you too, William," she says, just before we break apart.

I smile and kiss her on top of the head, in my usual spot. "You didn't miss it at all." Then I let go with one arm, and we walk away to find Hermione with Luna still tucked tightly against my body. We run into our target with Ron as they make their way off the dance floor.

"You two look cozy," she says, reminding me of our first mini-Ball, except she's smiling when she says it this time. "Trade?"

"Okay," I say cheekily, "but I haven't tried this with another guy before."

"Uh..." Ron says.

"Just go with it, Ron," I say in a stage whisper, "this way we could get to see Hermione and Luna dancing together."

"I think I would enjoy dancing with Hermione," Luna says dreamily.

"Me too," I say with a grin.

Hermione rolls her eyes and grabs my hand. "Come on, pervert. You owe me another dance."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I liked it better when you called me 'milady.'"

"Very well, milady. I know how you prefer to be the dom—"

"Not the perverted way, prat," she cuts in. "You know, when you used to treat me nicely."

"You wound me, milady! Why, I would move a mountain for you, if it pleased you. I would dig you an ocean, if you wanted to frolic in the surf. I would lasso the moon and pull it closer if it made your night just a little brighter. I would stop the very Sun in the sky if—"

"Stop," she says, laughing. "I get it, I get it."

"Phew, that's good," I say with exaggerated relief, "I was running out of ways to escalate the description of my devotion to you. I was going to have to go all cosmological on you."

She snorts. "So what have you been up to? I saw you looking mischievous a little while ago."

"I may have tried to ask Fleur to dance," I say with a grin.

"Oh no, what happened?"

"Well, she really cranked up her Veela jets on me and Harry," I say. "It didn't affect Harry, of course, but I could barely think straight. I only just managed to ask her to introduce me to her friend."

Her eyes widen and she gasps. "You didn't!"

I grin widely. "How many times are you going to doubt my stories?"

She laughs. "Oh my goodness, William, what did she do?"

"Well they all just stood there in shock for a few seconds until Harry made up a story about me wanting to talk to her friend all night. Then he asked Fleur to dance and did damage control for me. He's a good man, our Harry."

"And the girl?"

"Veronique Dubois, another Seventh Year at Beauxbatons. Kind of reminded me of you, actually, except not as pretty." I enjoy the slight blush rising on her cheeks. "You should dance with a guy from there, if you haven't already, and get him to tell you about it. I found it rather interesting."

"Hm," she says, "Viktor told me things about Durmstrang, but I wouldn't have called some of it interesting. They don't admit Muggle-borns at all!"

I think I remember that from a particular Harry-as-twin fanfiction, now that she mentions it. "That's not very smart of them. Maybe that's why the girl I danced with from there didn't like me."

"Did she know you're Muggle-born?"

I shrug. "I dunno, she just said I talk too much."

Hermione's mouth falls open, then she throws her head back and laughs uproariously. Her face turns red as her body shakes with mirth.

"Breathe, Hermione, breathe!"

"I'm sorry," she says, still having spasms. "Maybe you should keep telling her she likes you until she believes it?" This comment causes her to lose control again, and I can't help but laugh with her.

"It's going to be very difficult to tell you the rest when you're like this, ya big jerk."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says, pulling our hands in to wipe her tears away. I can tell she really isn't. "What else happened? Actually, why were you dancing with her anyway?"

"Oh yes, well that was part of my brilliant plan to foster inter-school and inter-House relations. I have danced with at least one girl from each of the four Hogwarts Houses and one each from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. I think Harry is going for it as well."

"Are you sure it's not your brilliant plan to dance with as many pretty witches as possible?"

I try to look shocked and offended, but she gives me The Look. My shoulder's slump exaggeratedly in defeat. "Damn."

"Language, William."

"Sorry."

"Who'd you dance with from Hufflepuff?"

I told her about Susan Bones and her aunt, and about me apparently guessing correctly that she'd never worn one of the anti-Harry badges.

She looks at me surprised again. "You're right, I doubt she would have worn one. As a baby, Harry ended the war that killed many of her family. But of course you knew that, didn't you? You know, Susan might be a good friend to have when we have to...well, never mind. Enough about depressing topics. Luna looked rather happier than normal."

"You can tell that?" I ask, surprised. "I suppose she was. I told her that I love her."

This causes her to stumble. "What?"

"Yeah, that was her response, too. I told her that you and I both, plus Harry and probably Neville all love her, and then I told her why. She seemed happy about it, and then she told me she loves me, too." I frown at her look of shock. "I didn't lie, did I? I mean, how could you not love Luna?"

"N-no, you're right. You just surprised me is all. You might recall that not everybody talks about love quite as easily as you. It just took me a second before I realized how you meant it." Then she looks at me seriously. "Are you sure she understood how you meant it, and that she meant it the same way?"

I think back on the conversation, and I have to frown and shake my head. "The way I told her...I'm pretty sure, but I suppose I can't be entirely certain. Do you think I should talk to her about it? She doesn't know...uh, you know...about me. At least, I haven't told her. She can be at least as perceptive as you, though."

Hermione sighs. "You know, I don't think you quite understand what effect those words can have on a girl who's never heard them from someone outside of her family. I'll talk to her, if you don't mind...it might make her uncomfortable if you do it. More uncomfortable, I mean."

"Thanks Hermione...you can tell her anything you think she should know about me. I trust you."

"Except what I don't know myself," she says bitterly.

I sigh sadly and pull her closer. "Except that."

She doesn't respond for a moment. "I'm not going to push you away again, William," she says softly, as if she knows what I'm doing. The song ends and our embrace lingers several moments longer until she takes a deep breath and lifts her head from my chest. "Well, I still need Ravenclaw and Beauxbatons partners if I'm going to...what was it? 'Foster inter-school and inter-House relations,' I think you put it."

I smile. "I'm glad you see it my way."

"I do see it _that_ way," she says, "but I wouldn't say it's _your_ way."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," I say with a grin.

"Of course not. Go find some beautiful witches to dance with, William."

"Well, if you must be so vulgar about it...judging by my present company I think I've been doing rather well in that regard."

She shakes her head and smiles. "See you later, William."

Some time later, despite it being the last dance of the night, Astoria once again uses me to energetically twirl herself around the dance floor. In fact, I think the previous four hours have only served to _increase_ her energy. After dancing so much I'm much more confident than I was, but she's also much more daring. Somehow I bluster through the extra lifts, spins, and dips while she laughs in delight. She's still bouncing around by the time our extended group splits into two outside the Great Hall: the Slytherins head to the dungeons while the Gryffindors head to Ravenclaw Tower first to drop off Luna. I grin from ear to ear when Daphne allows me to repeat on her the hug and cheek kisses I gave to Astoria, a display that shocks the others and apparently encourages more overt displays of affection between members of our group from rival Houses. I try very hard not to laugh out loud when Luna unabashedly hugs all four Slytherins, including an apparently too-stunned-to-scowl Blaise.

Once we drop Luna off – after another round of hugs, plus kisses on the cheek for me, Harry, Hermione, and Neville, of course – our leisurely walk back to Gryffindor toward is filled with laughs thanks to stories both from earlier in the night and from earlier in the year. I make sure to thank Neville once again for the dress robes...I really would have missed out on the fun without them.

* * *

A/N:

I know nothing about dancing. Sorry.

The thing with Astoria's gift is completely true: I had this idea of a snake wrapped around an egg, and the idea just wouldn't go away. I looked it up and saw generically that it was a symbol of the universe, and I just sort of shrugged and went with it. Then I looked more closely as I was writing this, and I realized how perfect it was.

Veronique Dubois was first named Aimee Beaucourt after jbern's original Beauxbatons character. She appears in most, if not all of his stuff. But since 'I' would recognize that name, I changed it. As far as I know, she's the only character I've named that doesn't exist in some form in canon, since I didn't want to go back and rewrite that chunk of the story even though I know it wasn't much.

Also, I spent way too much time looking at dresses, shoes, and jewelry for ideas about descriptions of the girls' outfits. I am going to go play violent, manly video games now.

The fanfiction I referred to as the 'Harry-as-twin' story is _Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived_ by The Santi. It's unfinished as of this writing, and last I checked the story is further along on DLP than it is on FF dot net.

Lastly, I'd like to apologize for the title of this chapter. I laughed out loud at it for way longer than I should have.

R & R, C & C


	18. Chapter 18: Aftermath

Disclaimer: My Tahitian Dance of Harry Potter Universe Ownership failed again last night. I thought it was just a matter of including more live chickens, but I'm starting to think JK Rowling knows the counter-ritual.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Eighteen: Aftermath**

"Eleven boys, three girls, and one professor, Hermione," I say as we lounge in the common room late the next morning.

"What?" She asks, looking up from one of the books she received as a gift.

"That's how many people asked me about the Thirty-Seven Steps to Female Ecstasy at the Ball last night," I say.

Harry and Neville burst out laughing, while Hermione's cheeks bloom a light pink. "Oh." Then her eyes widen as she fully processes my previous statements. "A _professor_?"

I ignore the implied question. I don't feel like describing how embarrassing it was for Professor Vector to theorize on the significance of the number thirty-seven and what the completion of various steps must mean. Needless to say, it was quite awkward...and kinda hot. That's probably why I've been humming '_here's to you Mrs. Robinson_' all morning. "How many asked you?"

"Just two girls and a boy," she says in a small voice, obviously hiding something. I raise my eyebrow at her. "What? It's true!" My eyebrow doesn't retract. "Oh, fine, one was Mandy Brocklehurst passing the message to me from a bunch of Ravenclaws, and the other was Susan Bones getting the scoop for probably two dozen Hufflepuffs watching from one corner. That was after you danced with her. Susan said she wanted to ask you but chickened out." She dutifully picks nonexistent lint from her robes in embarrassment.

I whistle.

"Lucky bastard," Ron grumbles.

"Language, Ronald," Hermione says reflexively.

"They don't all want me to try it on them," I point out, "in fact I imagine very few of them do, they're probably just either curious or they hope I teach their boyfriends."

"Except for the boy that asked me," Hermione says, now torn between amusement and embarrassment, "he was looking at you quite intently."

"Really? But it's supposed to be for Female Ecstasy."

She shrugs. "He didn't seem too concerned about that."

"I have to admit I'm curious to know if it would work on a gay male," I say, scratching my head. "I can't imagine it would. Supposedly it works on lesbians, so it seems like it's tailored specifically for the female anatomy."

"Gross!" Ron says, making a face.

"He wouldn't actually do it, Ronald," Hermione scolds, but then her face scrunches up when she looks at me, "would you?"

I snort. "Well there was that one time I tried to get Harry to kiss my cheek..." I laugh at Ron's gaping disbelief, and even Neville flinches a bit.

"How can...how could you...?" Ron sputters.

"We're a little more understanding in the Muggle world, Ron," I say with a shrug. "Sure, I'm heterosexual, but there is nothing wrong with men and women who are not. In fact, the women can be quite nice to watch."

"William!" Hermione says, aghast.

Oh, you poor teenagers stuck in the early 90's, to have never known the wonders of Internet porn. "Hey, if they're comfortable with their sexuality and they get off on being exhibitionists, who am I to deny them their pleasure?" Or take advantage of their potentially regrettable decisions, in the case of Internet porn, but they're too young to hear that.

"You're a noble man to make such sacrifices, William," Harry says, blushing in embarrassment for me.

"I think you mispronounced 'pervert,' Harry," Hermione says with a glare directed toward me.

"Says the girl who told our year's biggest gossip that I used the Thirty-Seven Steps of Female Ecstasy on her," I say with a grin.

Hermione's glare drops when her face turns a brilliant shade of red.

"What makes it even better is that she was telling the truth," Harry says with a similar grin.

"Between Hermione, the lady in the Slytherin common room portrait, and everybody who asked about it last night, I'm well on my way to cementing my reputation as a sex god," I say, rubbing my chin.

"Actually I think the lady in the portrait wanted to kill you," Neville says.

"Details," I say, waving his objection away.

* * *

Hermione was only mildly unamused by our conversation the day after the Yule Ball, but she was quite a bit more unamused by Rita Skeeter's article in the _Daily Prophet _about it. In the original timeline it was the fact that she attended the Ball with Krum, but this time it seems she found something a little more juicy.

My first instinct is to laugh out loud, but I decide not to, on the off chance that Hermione has either come across or simply invented a castration curse.

"Don't they have anything better to report on than the love lives of teenagers?" Hermione growls furiously.

"When one is the Boy-Who-Lived, I guess not," I say. "Sorry, Harry."

Hermione grumbles some more, and Harry commiserates with her.

"Well, it could be worse," I say hopefully.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one who is made to look like a tart!"

I am, actually...or at least whatever the male version of that particular piece of British slang is...but I don't want to contradict her at the moment. "Well at least I'm not rich and famous," I say, thinking of Krum. "Since they know nothing about me, they seem like pretty far-fetched and pathetic rumors. I mean, you went to the Ball with Harry and everything. In fact, they even mention how I went with a Slytherin! I have a feeling that might actually make people wonder how true it all is." I don't mention the obvious fact that most of it is true.

"I'm not sure, I think the damage is still done," she says, dropping her face into her hands. "This is the kind of thing that could come back and haunt me later in life. Don't they have some kind of protection for minors from stuff like this?"

"That's a Muggle thing that probably only came about within the last couple hundred years," I say, "so the wizarding world wouldn't have caught up yet."

This observation doesn't cheer Hermione up at all.

"So, the whole capturing a beetle thing is starting to look a little more enticing, isn't it?" I ask.

I'm confused when her eyes narrow when they are directed above my head.

"What the hell is this, Lerner?" Daphne's angry voice demands from behind me as she throws a copy of the Prophet down in front of me. Glancing around I spot some of the Gryffindors looking at me in shock to have the Slytherin beauty confronting me in the Great Hall. I suppose they didn't notice me dancing with a Slytherin on at least seven different occasions last night. Luckily the privacy charm extends to her so the others can't hear. It doesn't extend to Blaise and Tracey, who appear to be looking around rather uncomfortably.

"Well I would have said a newspaper, but I've read that article and it seems no more than a gossip rag to me," I say, attempting to seem unconcerned. I am concerned, though.

"You said you wouldn't get Astoria involved!"

I frown at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't speak to any reporters and I certainly didn't expect them to publish such nonsense."

"I should never have let her go with you," she says coldly.

"It's not his fault, Daphne!" Hermione says, standing up, cheeks tinged red with anger.

"Hey, come on, there's no need for this," I say in a placating tone.

"No, there is! You shouldn't let her treat you this way, William! I'm sick of you letting her walk all over you! Most of the article is slandering me, and the Greengrass name gets a mere passing mention!"

"Hermione, Daphne," I say firmly, standing up myself. "Unless you want to give our classmates more fuel for the next round of ridiculous gossip, I suggest we take this discussion elsewhere."

Both Daphne and Hermione pale at that. I'm glad for the privacy bubble that excluded most of the Hall. They still would have seen the expressions, though.

"Now come on, let's throw them off a bit and take a walk." I throw my arm around Daphne, who goes rigid. "You'll have to sell it better than that, Daphne." She relaxes slightly just as Hermione drops the privacy charm, but then she jumps when I start laughing loudly. "Can you believe they actually printed this nonsense?" I say. "What kind of idiots would actually believe this?"

Harry laughs as well. "Somebody's going to get fired," he says, wrapping his own arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"Remind me to get a copy of the _Quibbler_; I would have subscribed to _Teen Witch Weekly_ if I wanted schoolyard gossip instead of actual news," Hermione says offhand, deliberately not looking at Luna. Luna beams at her anyway.

As we're walking away I turn back to the Slytherin table and catch Astoria's violet eyes peering back at me. I give a small jerk of my head toward the door and she nods. When we reach the end of the table and Harry and Hermione move toward us, I throw my arm around both Harry and Hermione for good measure. "That was a nice touch with the Quibbler thing, Hermione," I say quietly, "you made Luna's day. Wish I had thought of that."

Once the door closes behind us, I'm surprised to note that Daphne does not immediately throw off my arm, and her voice has lost some of its iciness. "Why are we walking so slow this time?"

"Waiting for one more," I say mysteriously. I turn to her, Tracey, and Blaise. The latter looks angry about the placement of my arm, but I think he's finally more accepting of the whole 'being friends with Gryffindors' situation. "Where were you guys headed, back to the Slytherin common room? We can head that way if you like."

"You just want to see the lady in the portrait again," Harry says jokingly.

"She did leave an impression," I say wistfully. "Plus you guys haven't seen her yet, she's got a nice set of—"

"Fine," Daphne says quickly. "That'll be fine."

"Will? Daph?" Astoria's uncertain voice calls from behind us.

Daphne spins on her heel away from my arm. "Stori? What are you doing out here?"

Stori? What a cute nickname! "I wanted to apologize to her directly," I say, then I turn to her. When she's close enough I put up a privacy bubble large enough to encompass all of us. "I'm sorry, Astoria, I had no idea the _Prophet_ was going to do something like that."

"William..." Hermione warns, and suddenly the tension from the Great Hall is back.

"It's okay," Astoria says. "It only said I was your date, Daphne was Viktor's, and that our father is an important business man."

"You don't understand, father could lose business because of this," Daphne says with an icy glare in my direction. "I wouldn't be surprised if he comes here today to yell at us."

"And how is this William's fault?" Hermione asks in a heated voice.

"If we hadn't...if he never talked to me in the first place, none of this would have happened!"

I flush in embarrassment as Hermione and Astoria both start to argue with Daphne at the same time. "Stop," I say loudly. "Look, Daphne, what you say is true. Yes, it is, Hermione. We're all just getting to know each other, and I had a great time last night. I really like you and I don't want to stop being your friend, but I'd understand if you or your father don't want you to be mine anymore. I'd understand if you think it's not worth it to have things like this happening."

"I didn't say that," Daphne says frustratedly, looking away.

"Well that's what it comes down to, is it not? You can yell at me if you like, but once you're done, you're either going to forgive me or tell me to take a hike. What do you say we skip to that part?"

Daphne makes a growling sound in her throat, then she turns to Hermione. "Is he always this difficult?"

"Yes," Hermione says, "in fact he used much the same speech on us once."

"It didn't work, though...she told him to get lost," Harry says with a smirk, jerking his thumb at her.

Daphne's eyebrows jump in surprise and Astoria and Tracey actually gasp, making Hermione flush with embarrassment. "I-I already admitted I made a mistake."

I shrug. "Debatable. Either way it doesn't mean it will be a mistake for her. We both know I need her more than she needs me. Of course she can change her mind later, just as you did. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder." The last bit I add with a little smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

"What do you mean you need her more than she needs you?" Astoria asks.

"He wants to—" Hermione begins.

"No!" Daphne cuts in loudly, whipping out her wand and pointing it at me with a dangerous glitter in her ice-blue eyes. "You promised!"

"Daphne, everybody knows the relationship between Slytherin and other Houses is bad," I say, looking into her eyes meaningfully. "It won't hurt if Astoria knows that I'm trying to improve that. I'm not going to recruit her or put her in danger or anything."

Her eyes widen slightly a few moments later as understanding hits her, and her wand slowly falls to her side.

"I'd say you're more than trying," Tracey says, "the entire school saw the three of us dancing with you and Harry on multiple occasions, not to mention when you walked in with Stori just before the Champions."

I grimace slightly. "Are you guys catching a lot of flak for that?"

Tracey shrugs. "Like Daph said, the Fourth Years have been quiet, and if Malfoy doesn't raise a stink about it, nobody will make a move. Nobody else has the influence to go up against a Greengrass."

"Nott and Parkinson do, together," Daphne says, "but since Pansy practically worships Draco, Theo wants nothing to do with her. He would be afraid to bring it up anyway, in case this is part of Draco's plan. He's not exactly a conversationalist."

Astoria looks back and forth with wide eyes. Clearly this game is not something she plays with her fellow Second Years.

"I get the sense Mr. Zabini could as well," I say, glancing back at the stoic boy.

"I can not," he says simply.

"He could," Daphne corrects, "but he wouldn't."

"I will not break my oath."

Daphne rolls her eyes. "You were _eleven_, I doubt either of our fathers even remember that."

His eyes remain steadily on hers. "I do."

I glance at Harry and Hermione, and they appear to be looking at Blaise as if they're seeing him in a new light. "I suppose we finally convinced you that being friends with us isn't going against your oath?"

Blaise snorts but says nothing. We're coming up on the Slytherin common room, and I can't help but grin when the portrait comes into view.

"Should I be frightened at what that look means, William?" Hermione asks.

"What ever do you mean?" I ask innocently.

"Oh no, _the portrait_," Tracey says in mock horror.

"Who's there?" the lady asks in her sultry voice.

"Hello again, milady," I say, stepping into view with a smile. "I must say you look positively ravishing today."

Harry and Astoria snicker at the joke from last night, and even Daphne cracks a small smile.

"You! You have no business here; begone from my sight at once!"

"I should really know better by now than to doubt your stories just because they are ridiculous," Hermione says, shaking her head.

"What's this?" She demands, eyes narrowed.

"Simple, milady, I told my friends Harry and Hermione here what a waste it is that the most beautiful portrait in the castle is relegated to the dungeons, where only a quarter of the students have the privilege of gazing upon you. They quite forcefully insisted upon experiencing it for themselves." I turn to them. "You can see I was telling the truth about her being quite attractive."

"Uh..." Harry says.

"Elegant, shapely, not to mention experienced...I bet a woman like her knows all kinds of tricks in—"

"William!" Daphne and Hermione shout in unison, at the same time the woman starts shrieking at me. My privacy charm cuts her off.

"Oops, sorry about that, I got a little carried away," I say, turning back to them. Hermione and Daphne shoot embarrassed glances at each other and I can't help but grin at that.

Suddenly I flush in embarrassment myself when I realize Astoria is staring at me wide-eyed. "Uh, sorry, Astoria, I kinda forgot you were with us," I say sheepishly.

"You're embarrassed to talk like that in front of her, but not us?" Hermione asks, eyebrow raised.

"Um," I say loquaciously.

Suddenly Tracey bursts out laughing, and Daphne shoots her a glare. "Sorry, Daph, I don't mean to laugh. It's just that I asked William yesterday why he wasn't with either you or Hermione, and he said he didn't want to talk about it. But clearly he likes much, much older women!"

I bark out a laugh, though for some reason only she, Harry, and I find that so amusing. Blaise coughs and turns his head away to try and cover his reaction.

"If you three are quite finished?" Daphne says with a sniff.

"Quite! Daphne still hasn't decided whether she wants to still be friends, after all," Hermione says.

The elder of the two raven-haired Slytherins goes rigid, and all traces of mirth fade off my face as I look at her solemnly.

She presses her lips together and holds my gaze for a moment, then glances at Astoria, then over to Tracey and Blaise, then to Harry and Hermione, then back to me. Then her head droops and she sighs heavily. "Damn you, William..."

I bite my bottom lip to stop from smiling. "Can we hug it out now?"

She snorts. "Sweet Circe, you really know how to push it, don't you? Fine."

I step in and press her body firmly to mine briefly. "I really am sorry about what happened," I whisper as I let go.

"I know."

"Your hair smells good, by the way."

Hermione groans loudly at that. "You say that to everybody."

My fake scandalized look returns. "That's not true at all! I'm sure I haven't said it to more than five girls. And maybe Harry, I don't remember."

"You're an odd bloke, William," Harry says, shaking his head and smiling.

"Speaking of which, do you think my favorite portrait has finished describing the ways she wants to kill me yet?"

"Looks like it," Hermione says.

"Well, I suppose we should be off then." I drop the privacy charm, and Daphne gives the password. The woman starts ranting again while she swings open, so the privacy charm goes back up.

"I need some time to think, but we need to talk later," Daphne says, jabbing a finger into my chest. "Alone."

"Yes, ma'am," I say, snapping off a mock salute. Then I grin mischievously. "Shall I bring the wine or the strawberries?"

Her ice-blue eyes narrow. "I'd recommend a bag of ice and a pain-relief potion."

Everybody else finds that hilarious – though Blaise merely looks pleased – and I chuckle along with them. "Traitors. Well, I'm glad we had this talk, even if I am going to need to wear a protective cup for the next one."

"You don't _have_ to," she says with a smirk, then turns her body away. "I'll see you later."

Astoria comes up and wraps her arms around me. "Thanks for asking me to the dance and then inviting me out here, this has all been...interesting."

"It has at that, Stori." Her violet eyes widen in surprise at the use of her nickname, but she smiles in acceptance. "I am sorry about the article, though, I do hope you don't get into too much trouble over it."

She shrugs. "Daph's overreacting, it'll be fine." She gives me another quick hug and then surprises Harry and Hermione with a hug each before hopping into the common room after her sister. "Bye guys!"

Tracey comes up to me next. "If you would have told me less than two months ago that Daph, Stori, and I would be dancing and hugging with Gryffindors before the year was out, I would have thought you were insane." She gives me a more timid hug, leaning in at the waist. "On second thought, I might still think that," she adds with a smile. "Thanks for mini-Ball the other day, and the show this morning...and the show last week, too, for that matter. Stori was right, it has been quite interesting. See you later, William, Harry, Hermione."

"Glad to hear it, Tracey, see you around, then," I say with a smile. Then I nod at Blaise. "Mr. Zabini."

"Lerner. Potter. Granger." With a pair of stiff nods he follows Tracey into the common room.

"Well that was fun," Hermione says, letting out a breath.

"I'm disappointed in you, William," Harry says, frowning and shaking his head dramatically. "I think you could have slipped in _at least_ two kisses on the cheek."

Harry and I both laugh at that, but Hermione only gives a small smile and shakes her head. She remains oddly quiet while Harry and I banter back and forth a bit more, and she makes no move to take my arm or Harry's hand.

To my surprise, Hermione continues up the stairs, not even hesitating as she passes the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry and I exchange a look, but at the determined expression on our friend's face, we shrug and follow wordlessly. She leads us up to the familiar seventh floor corridor and, without hesitation, walks briskly back and forth in front of the moving tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the trolls.

She's made the Room into a small sitting room, which fills me with dread. There is no training going on here. I hold a miniscule amount of hope that she just wants to study, but I'm fairly certain she would want the comfort of a small library at her back even if all she used was her textbooks. That hope is completely dashed when she sits and fixes her eyes on me as if Harry wasn't even in the room.

"Hermione?" Harry says uncertainly as he sits.

"William," she says coolly, ignoring his concern. "Are we not your best friends?"

My brows furrow. "You are."

"Do you not trust us more than anyone else here?"

I gulp audibly. "I do," I say uncertainly, not liking where this line of questioning is going.

Her gaze never wavers. "Then why have you shared something so important with Daphne that you haven't shared with us?"

Harry's head snaps to mine as my gaze drops to the floor. "What? Is that true?" Harry asks in disbelief.

"You saw Daphne's reaction when I was about to talk about William's _so-called_ Operation Reptilian Redemption. That is _not_ what she thought I was going to say. She believes William is planning something far more dangerous; something she doesn't want Astoria to know."

I hope that's my out, and I shake my head. "She knows far less than either of you. I realized after she told me about her family that she could be a valuable source of information. So I hinted to her in vague terms that I know what Riddle has done to try to attain immortality and that we're working on a way to counter that. She knows how dangerous that information is. She confronted me before the Ball because I still haven't confided in her, and she was worried that I would bring Astoria into it instead. I promised her I wouldn't. I never told her my original reason for befriending her, so she was worried you were going to bring up what plots she _does_ know about."

All true statements, but I still look mainly at Harry, who is nodding, to try and avoid Hermione's usual secret detector. Between Hermione and Daphne, how am I supposed to make it through the year without spilling everything? I realize I have to distract them both.

"Hermione, do you remember the book I got from Daphne? That thing is ancient, and Daphne's note said it came from her father's rare collection. I was hoping to get access to the Greengrass family library to aid in our research into Horcruxes, and I've dropped a hint to that effect already. I figured we have a better chance of finding information with access to libraries of two ancient families – the Blacks and the Greengrasses – instead of one. And don't forget, Sirius is on the run _and_ he's gone hunting, so I don't know when or even _if_ we'll get access to his."

Hermione's eyes widen at the mention of a library with ancient, rare books, so I go for the finishing blow.

"I'm shooting for Easter break, Hermione. Between Daphne and Astoria I'm pretty sure I can get myself invited, and Lord Greengrass might be interested in meeting the future Lord Potter. But it would be better for everybody if you were there, too."

Harry flinches when I call him the future Lord Potter, but Hermione's eyes glaze over, so I know I've got her. I know I've dodged the bullet.

For now.

* * *

When there wasn't much of a backlash after the _Daily Prophet_ article beside the tension within our group, things settled down quite nicely. Less than a week later we had taken to spending our remaining free days in the Great Hall or walking around bundled up outside. To her sister's chagrin, Astoria spends quite a bit of time with us since almost none of her fellow Second Years were invited to the Yule Ball and therefore went home for the break. Hermione spends an inordinate amount of time either speaking quietly with Daphne or laughing with Astoria; perhaps she is determined to become good friends to make it more natural for them to invite her along as well.

Neville and Luna join us all the time. Ron is still too uncomfortable to spend much time around the Slytherins, but he rarely passes up the chance for wizard's chess in the Great Hall. Surprisingly, Viktor Krum spots our group on a leisurely walk around the castle and jogs over to join us to get away from the giggling girls who follow him around to his workouts and to speak with Daphne. He looks surprised when Hermione corrects his pronunciation, but then quickly hits it off with her when he finds she is happy to work with the international Quidditch star on his English.

Unsurprisingly, Harry does not seem too pleased about this development in its third day running. I am, of course, perfectly fine with it.

"I can see that this bothers you," Astoria says, sidling up and peering up at me with her curious, violet eyes. "I thought you liked my sister?"

I give her a small, forced smile at her calling me out. "I like both of them."

She frowns. "Well that's not fair, you can't have both. You have to pick one."

Ah, here's the talk I was expecting a few days ago. I shake my head and give a brief chuckle. "If only I were that lucky. Unfortunately, I don't get to pick either. Remember what your dad told you about me?"

This drops her gaze. "I forgot."

"It's okay," I say with a shrug. "But who says I would pick one of those two if I could? I like all of the girls here. Maybe I would pick you."

She looks surprised. "But...you're older." I bark out an unexpected laugh, causing her to blush. "I didn't mean for that to be funny," she mutters.

"Sorry, bit of an inside joke," I say. "I seem old now, but soon that won't make a big difference. Just look at Viktor, he's a Seventh Year, so Daphne and Hermione are three years below him."

"I know, I know. My mom is nine years younger than my dad. I was just...you just seem like you'd want to pick somebody older...ugh, never mind."

I put my arm around her and squeeze her into my side – just like I do with Luna – and smile encouragingly at her frustration. "Well you're missing one thing: you girls are the ones who have to pick. Although, if I'm still around, I will have to make sure the boy is good enough for you." I take my arm back and punch my fist menacingly.

"Oh great, the older brother I never wanted," she says flatly, rolling her eyes but smiling.

"Meanie," I say, my lip jutting out as far as it'll go.

She barks out a laugh. "I can't believe you just called me that."

I laugh along with her. "Well see, I'm way cooler than an older brother because we skipped all the torture I would have inflicted upon you growing up."

"No, you'd have been the Greengrass heir," she points out.

"Oh yeah, I'd be more like this: 'Astoria, stop being happy. You must be annoyed at everyone and glare at them all the time like me and your sister.'" I talk in my deep, aristocratic voice.

She laughs loudly at that, then tries but fails to school her face into her sister's cold expression. "Yes, brother."

"'Also, your pinky is not high enough in the air when you drink your tea. You embarrass me.'"

Astoria breaks into giggles again.

"What are you doing, William?" Hermione asks, looking over from her discussion with Viktor.

"'I am chiding young Astoria for behavior ill-befitting a scion of the Greengrass family.'" I say in my most pompous voice.

"Oh no, not this again," she says, holding a hand to her forehead as she shakes it, drawing laughs from Harry, Neville, and Luna. The three Slytherins look on in confusion.

"_Again_?" Astoria asks.

"Oh, she's just being a party pooper," I say, sticking my tongue out at Hermione. "She doesn't like my impressions because of my fantastically accurate attempts at an English accent."

She knits her brows in confusion. "A party pooper?" Then she shakes her head as if giving up understanding my apparently unfamiliar sayings. "Well, anyway, I didn't want to say anything, but yeah, the accent was pretty bad," the young Slytherin says.

I pout at her again. "Meanie."

"You better be careful calling me names like that," Astoria says slyly, "I could tell Daph what you said about her."

I grin. "Oh? How very cunning of you, Stori. Very well, what is it you want from me, then?"

"What?"

"I know how blackmail works, devious lady," I say reprovingly. "What is the price of your silence?"

"Hm," she says, tapping her lips, "I need time to come up with something suitable."

"Uh oh, I don't like the sound of that."

Her smile turns mischievous. "You shouldn't."

I laugh. "Nothing too crazy, now. You know I could just let you tell her and smooth-talk my way out of it."

Now it's her turn to jut out her bottom lip. "Party pooper."

* * *

"Mr. Lerner, will you come to the headmaster's office after you are finished, please?" Professor McGonagall asks. Well, it wasn't really a question, an impression that is furthered when she walks briskly away before waiting for an answer.

"Sure," I say to the space she once occupied.

"Someone's in trouble," Harry says in a sing-song voice.

"Harry, honestly," Hermione says, shaking her head.

"It's okay, I'm sure she just wants to check on certain rumors that have no doubt reached her ears." I wink at Hermione suggestively.

She gasps. "You don't think—?"

"Could be she wants to try it out."

Hermione's face scrunches up in disgust. "Eww!"

"Hey, I'm sure it's not every day she has a sex god in residence," I point out reasonably while trying to ignore the rather frightening images that are trying to stab their way into my brain.

"It's been every day for the last four months," Harry says.

"Oh yeah," I say. "Well, she didn't know before now."

"That's disgusting," Hermione whispers, still making a face.

"Tracey did say that William likes older women," Harry points out.

Hermione shudders and then shakes her head as if to forget the last thirty seconds of conversation. "You aren't going to tell them, are you?"

"About our little secret that everybody knows? No, I'll be sure to keep it from them," I say with a grin.

"William!"

"No worries, my dearest. I'm sure I'll think of something." With a glance to verify that neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall are still at the head table, I push away from the Gryffindor table and make my way toward the headmaster's office. The gargoyle seems to be waiting for me, since it permits me entry without asking for a password. Then the door to the headmaster's office opens just before I can knock.

"Mr. Lerner, come in, come in," Dumbledore greets me jovially. Professor McGonagall does not look so jovial.

"You wanted to see me, headmaster?"

"Yes, I wanted to see how your first term went," he says. "Lemon drop?"

I hold my hand up to refuse. "No, thank you. It has been quite an interesting term. I am rather enjoying myself."

"So it would seem," McGonagall says slowly and sternly, eyebrow raised.

"Now, now, Minerva," Dumbledore says, then he pauses, steepling his fingers and training his blue eyes on me. I shift my eyes back to the younger professor in what I hope is not too obvious a manner and I try to form the Void in my mind, just in case he had planned any Legilimency. "What are your thoughts on the _Prophet_ article about you and your friends?"

I shrug. "I was a bit surprised that the wizarding world doesn't protect minors from this sort of thing. Schoolyard gossip doesn't seem terribly important, all things considered."

"Indeed it should not be," he agrees. "But considering the relative fame of the subjects, I think you'll find that quite a bit of the population does care, more than you probably realize."

I frown first, but nod and drop my gaze. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Obviously I would have preferred that no article was printed at all, especially one with so little truth in it."

"So little truth?" Professor McGonagall presses.

"We are close friends, most of the people mentioned in the article, but the...uh...juiciest parts are not true," I say, blushing. "I didn't speak with any reporters, and I certainly didn't want to drag the Misses Greengrass into it.

In my peripheral vision I see the two aged professors look at each other. "That's the other thing we wanted to speak to you about..." Dumbledore begins, but then pauses. "I take it we have you to thank for the unexpected but not unwelcome changes we've observed in Slytherin House."

I try to shrug but I can't help the grin that forms when I think of how Daphne had changed.

"I figured as much," he says, amusement plain in his voice, "I can't help but notice your circle of friends contains Slytherins and Ravenclaws...quite remarkable for a Gryffindor, and even more so since Mr. Potter is among them. I'm sure you are aware of his previous dealings with those of Salazar's House."

"I may have had shared some words with certain members of that House over the past few months, in an attempt to clear up some misconceptions," I say diplomatically.

"Just words?" Professor McGonagall asks, tilting her head forward with a stern look.

I cringe slightly. "There may have been some defensive spells on my part."

"I thank you for your honesty, Mr. Lerner," the headmaster says. "Professor Snape had grudgingly admitted to walking out of his classroom earlier this year and encountering a most impressive Shield Charm."

I blush at the praise, but then I shift uncomfortably. "In that case I admit to Disarming Mr. Malfoy when he and eight of his fellow Slytherins accosted me when I was alone on my way to see Professor Babbling."

"They did _what_?" Professor McGonagall blurts.

"It was okay, in fact that confrontation was perhaps the most successful," I say. "I told him he is smarter than his father, which made him angry enough to draw his wand on me. After Disarming him, encouraging him to think about the life expectancy of a certain group of people, and returning his wand, I think I got through to him that blood purity matters very little outside the political arena. I have witnessed the new and more thoughtful Mr. Malfoy myself."

The Head of Gryffindor House lets out a breath. "You returned his wand just like that?" At my nod she shakes her head in disbelief. "Still, that was very foolish of you, Disarming Mr. Malfoy in front of his friends. I am tempted to deduct House points despite the favorable outcome."

"It might have put her in a bind if a particular few of her Housemates had discovered us, but the elder Ms. Greengrass and I were already friends at that point," I say. "I believe I had also earned respect from Mr. Zabini and Ms. Davis by then, which may be why we are all openly friendly with each other now. All three of them were present so I did not believe I was in danger."

Dumbledore leans back in his chair. "Remarkable," he says, stroking his beard. "While I must agree with Professor McGonagall and encourage you to do what you can to avoid confrontation, I cannot argue with the results."

"Albus..." Professor McGonagall says.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I admit I could have tried to run away. I will accept any punishment you deem necessary." I hope I sound earnest enough, though the tightening of Professor McGonagall's jaw isn't a good sign.

"Based on your previous behavior, I believe this warning will suffice," she says finally.

Dumbledore smiles at that. "Good luck in your upcoming term, Mr. Lerner."

* * *

A/N:

In case you aren't up on movies half a century old, Mrs. Robinson is a character from _The Graduate_, a married teacher who has an affair with a student. "_Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson_," is a line from the Simon & Garfunkel song named after the character...the only line I can remember, in fact.

I almost spilled the beans to Hermione – indeed, I started to write it such that Hermione _didn't_ fall for my library trick – but it threw my story off too much. Hopefully with the way I've written Hermione my successful misdirection is not too unbelievable.

It turns out that the article about the supposed Harry/Hermione/Viktor love triangle actually _was_ in _Teen Witch Weekly_ in canon. Oh well, that's minor enough that it's not that big of a deal.

R & R, C & C


	19. Chapter 19: Complications

Disclaimer: No amount of painful, slow filler chapters in fanfiction will ever convince JK Rowling to stop owning the Harry Potter universe.

Progress note: As of the time I post this, this story is now complete! It weighs in at 26 chapters plus an epilogue, 181k words according to my word counter, though that's before the final modifications and proofreading that goes into these things before I post them. That also includes author's notes and omakes...the real number is about 170k. The FF dot net word counter is usually higher than mine, so on here it will probably say around 190k. I am quite pleased with the ending, though I am also quite drained from writing it.

One last note: the events in this chapter were very controversial to me, so I apologize in advance if they offend you. See the A/N at the end for more explanation.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Nineteen: Complications**

With the term picking up and the Second Task drawing near, it wasn't long before the entire school had forgotten about the scandalous Prophet article and fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Or, more accurately, they had completely new developments in that scandal that ran counter to the claims in the article: in particular the unusual inter-House friendships that had taken hold amongst the middle and lower years. Normally such rumors would not get to me, but for some reason I'm feeling troubled by it.

The inexplicable discomfort leads me to pore over the book on wandless magic that Daphne had gifted to me, which discusses some variations on wand spells that are more effective when cast wandlessly. At breakfast one day after our morning constitutional, I show a number of specific passages on that subject to Hermione. I recall Harry's point earlier about the unusual nature of my magic, and the two of us set up various experiments to test my limits and a theory of Hermione's that she won't tell me about until we tried it.

"You know that as the test subject, it is essential that you approach the experiments with no preconceived notions on how it should turn out," she points out reasonably.

"Either that or you just want revenge by keeping secrets from me," I say with a small smile. Making the joke seems natural to me, but I have to force the smile. I'm not entirely certain I understand why...I just know that I've been feeling increasingly unhappy. Turning my thoughts inward, I think it might have something to do with my original plans for Daphne are changing, just as they had for Hermione. I certainly didn't come into this with the intention of getting close to anybody, but perhaps Hermione was right, I needed somebody in place of my family and my old friends. I shake that thought off as too dark.

Hermione snorts and shakes her head at me, returning to her journal.

"You guys...uh...don't need me, right?" Harry asks.

Hermione lifts her head up and frowns. "What?"

He ducks his head as if he's in trouble. "Well, er, we were going to play some pick-up Quidditch this afternoon and Ron wanted to—"

"That sounds good, we can always just give you the highlights," I say before Hermione can scold him. She shoots me a glare, which I return with a frown. "You can invite Luna or Neville or Daphne or Astoria if you're afraid to be alone with me, Hermione."

She blushes at that. "Th-that's not what I—"

"Have fun, Harry, I'll see you later," I say, standing up and walking over to and out the portrait hole without looking back.

"William, wait!" Hermione calls from the stairs behind me. I don't stop, instead taking long strides down the corridor. I think I'm annoyed with her, but I realize I'm also annoyed with myself. "Wait," she says, just as she catches up at the stairs up to the seventh floor, "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," I say, not looking back as I climb the stairs two at a time. My long legs make this rather easy.

She grunts and runs up after me. "Then what's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't seem like nothing," she growls and grabs my arm. "You never shut me out like this, William, what's wrong?"

Just before we reach another flight of stairs, she spins me around but I look away. "I don't know, okay?" That came out harsher than I intended, causing her to flinch. I rub my hand through my hand and let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I'm just feeling...frustrated for some reason. I guess maybe I'm just anxious to figure out what I can do. Maybe it'll help me figure out what exactly I am." Maybe that's a part of it, I guess, now that I've said it, but I still feel like I'm just grasping at straws for an explanation.

Hermione grabs the sides of my face and forces me to look into her shining chocolate eyes, filled with concern. Though I'm focused on her eyes, I see her lips part as she lets out a small breath. She seems to hesitate for several moments, then she lets her hands fall away and wrap around my abdomen. She lays her head against my chest, bushy hair pulled back so her ear is pressed against my heart. I don't know how long she gently holds me there without a word, but it's long enough that I begin thinking more about how good it feels to hug her. Long enough to stop feeling sorry for myself.

"Thank you, Hermione," I say softly, "and I'm sorry."

I can feel her smile against my chest. "You're allowed to have bad days, you know. In a way it's nice to know you're actually human."

I let out an amused breath. "Nonsense, I'm supposed to be the Gary Stu in this story."

She cranes her neck up at me and furrows her brows. "What?"

"Nothing." I lean down and kiss her forehead. "Thank you."

Her eyes open and remain unfocused for a moment afterward, then she presses her lips together, drops the hug and lets out a sigh. "Let's go see what you can do."

We make our way to the Room of Requirement, which she once again sets up for us. Idly I wonder if I can even set it up anymore. Certainly not with the deftness and detail she puts into it. This one is mainly the training area except for a small sitting area with a desk. Surprisingly there are no stacks of books, but rather a simple pair of bookcases...of course Hermione would never create a room completely devoid of books. She takes a seat behind the desk, which is facing the training area with large dummies hanging from the ceiling. She instructs me to fire a few spells as part of the control portion of experiments. The last one she has me do is the Blasting Curse, which she quickly demonstrates with the incantation _confringo_. I copy her, minus the incantation and the use of a wand, of course.

"Now try, er, I guess a fireball or something," Hermione says haltingly.

"A fireball? Is that the incantation, then?" I smile at her teasingly.

"You know what I mean, you prat," she says, crossing her arms.

"Actually I don't," I say. "How big should I make it? How much magic should I put in it?"

Her eyes widen. "You can control that?"

"What, the amount of magic I put in? I don't know how fine my control over that is, but I think I can do it roughly."

She makes a sound like she just got punched in the stomach. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I dunno, it didn't seem relevant," I say with a shrug.

She grumbles a bit as she crumples up a sheet of parchment and stuffs it back in her bag. "Well can you put the same amount of energy into a fireball as you did in that Blasting Curse?"

I hold my arm back out and try to pull the same size stream of magic and let it circle around in front of my hand as heat energy. When it grows to the size of a baseball, I move it further away since it hurts my hand. By the time it's the size of a grapefruit, I push it swiftly at the target that Hermione had restored with a thought after my Blasting Curse had taken a solid chunk out of its chest. The fireball does significantly less damage.

She purses her lips and taps them in thought. "How do you feel?"

"Like I just fired off six fairly strong spells," I say sardonically. "How about you?"

"Oh, quit being a baby."

I bark out a laugh. "Thanks for the motivation. Why don't you just beat the crap out of me again; I think that should make me feel even better."

"I only Stunned you, your body did the beating stuff all on its own," she retorts. "And would you like some cheese with that whine?"

"Alright, that's it," I summon her wand, which is lying next to the journal in which she's writing, as I stalk toward her with a mischievous grin.

"W-what are you—eep!" She starts screaming until she can't stop the laughter from my tickling. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Ha! That'll teach you!" I say, tossing her wand back.

"Teach me?" She asks, eyebrow raised. She picks up her wand and moves around the desk between us. "Teach me? I'll show you how it's done! _Rictusempra_!"

I wandlessly cast a _Finite_ just as the silver light strikes me, just before the urge to double over in laughter takes over. "I'm not ticklish," I say with a grin.

"That's not..." she says slowly, turning to toss her wand back on the desk, "...fair!" Before I can react she spins back around and launches herself at me, fingers jabbing into my kidneys.

The suddenness of the attack catches me off guard, so it's too late to fight off the urge to squirm. We collapse in a pile of laughter, her chocolate eyes dancing with mirth.

"Not ticklish, huh?" She asks, smirking victoriously. She holds herself up with one arm and flips a pile of bushy brown hair behind her shoulder.

"I'm not, I was just humoring you," I say petulantly.

This is the wrong thing to say, because my left kidney gets another quick jab that makes me yelp. "Oh?" She purses her lips and lifts an eyebrow as if to dare me to say more, then tucks the last stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

I don't know what happened after that, except suddenly her face is centimeters from mine, pulling away and my lips are tingling from the contact with hers.

Oh, shit.

An involuntary grunt escapes when Hermione pushes off my chest and starts to run away. "Hermione, wait!"

She freezes with her back turned but says nothing.

"Hermione..." I begin, but I'm not sure what to say. "I...I'm sorry..."

She coughs out something between a laugh and a sob. "What are you sorry for?" She asks, back still turned.

"I...thought maybe I..."

"It was my fault, you didn't do anything..." Hermione sounds pained when she says that.

"I just...wasn't expecting it is all. I was looking at you, thinking about how..." I trail off, realizing now is probably not a good time to say that.

"Thinking about...?" Hermione asks, not letting that slide.

I let out a breath. "...how beautiful you looked, Hermione. I didn't even think about anything else until after lips had already touched."

She rubs her face with both sleeves, then turns her slightly splotchy face to meet mine. The redness is fading slowly. "William...I know you said that we couldn't...that we can't..."

"We shouldn't," I say, as that's the most accurate.

Hermione's shoulders droop. "I am so close to saying I don't care about that."

I close my eyes, not wanting to say that I'm close to the same thing. Of course, I catch her meaning that she really doesn't care, but she's only holding off on my account. And I do care. I am going to disappoint her, in the end, when she finds out how I've been lying to her, manipulating her and Harry. Getting into this would make that betrayal so much worse. But how do I get out of this? How do I get the point across without either hurting her or leading her on? Is that what I'm doing? I want to say that I wish things could be different, that I wish...

Then, suddenly, it hits me. "Hermione, talk to me again after the Third Task."

The probably sudden change in my expression surprises her. "What?"

"The Third Task," I repeat. "Our number one priority is getting Harry through the Third Task. I wouldn't feel right about...well, much of anything, if something happens to Harry."

Hermione's mouth opens and closes, then she flushes in embarrassment. "I can't believe how selfish I've been," she says, then her voice becomes a bit more determined. "We can't...get distracted now. Harry really does need us."

I smile at her thankfully. "Yes he does. Now I need to fix something really quick, then we can get back to work." I put one hand against her cheek, then slide it to the back of her head and lightly grasp a fistful of brown, bushy tangles. Her eyes widen in surprise when I tilt her head back and press my lips gently onto hers. She arches herself against me in response, her hand sliding up my back and into my hair. It lasts a wonderful but painfully brief moment.

"William..." she whines when we break apart, trying to suppress a shudder.

I'm torn between hitting myself for being so weak and giving in to that weakness and kissing her again. "Sorry, I figured we should have a proper first kiss, where we're both participating."

"That _was_ my first kiss..." Hermione says in wonder, more to herself. She's holding her fingers to her lips as if trying to capture the feeling.

My smile falters at that.

"No, William, that's not a bad thing," she says, noting my expression. Then she blushes and smiles shyly, "in fact there was nothing bad at all about my first kiss."

"Well, I'm glad I got a chance to make it a good one." Then I give her a quick hug and kiss on the forehead. "Now, where were we?"

"We were kissing," she deadpans.

I look at her in shock for a moment, then bark out a laugh. "Oh no, Hermione, have I rubbed off on you even more?"

"I guess so," she agrees. "You have literally kissed me senseless."

"Oh hell, I think I did," I say with a laugh. "You aren't going to start hitting on portraits and stuff now, are you? Do you actually remember what we were doing? Because you never told me."

"Yes, I remember, William," she says, rolling her eyes. "I was just teasing you."

"Well, what was it? Do we need to do more experiments?"

"No, I think I've got enough for now to make a general conclusion," she says. "As we've said, it's not entirely critical to help Harry, so it should be good enough."

I look at her expectantly, and she looks at me confusedly, which makes me laugh. "So are you going to tell me the hypothesis or the conclusion?"

"Oh yeah! Well, there are two key facts. First, you don't seem to have the same limits on what you can make your magic do. Your display from early this year, your fake ultimate flare ritual thingy, completely wiped you out, right?"

"Ultima demi-flare," I say, smiling, "and yes it did."

"Well these tests here have shown that it takes less magical energy to do normal wizarding magic. Or, perhaps more precisely, the same amount of magical energy goes further if you use normal wizarding magic. Of course this brings up several untestable hypotheses, like determining whether it is some sort of limitation of yours, or if magic itself is...I don't know, quasi-sentient or something, and works best when shaped a certain way."

"Well if I ever magically disappear to some other place with people like me, I'll send you an owl. Or whatever they use there."

She presses her lips together.

"Sorry," I say quickly. Note to self: joking about the kiss is okay, joking about disappearing is not. I quickly continue in order to change the subject. "I think you're on to something, though, Hermione. Maybe that whole ultima demi-flare thing will have to be retired."

My diversion is successful, since she mock-glares at me. I think she realizes I'm not going to do that again. "Yes, that would be wise."

"I might do that light and smoke show again, you have to admit that looked awesome," I say, slightly forcing a grin.

Her glare falters, and the corners of her lips turn up slightly. "Fine, it looked...awesome."

"Wow, that sounds positively adorable when you say it," I say in my latest attempt at a British accent.

"Your accent is still atrocious," she says with a smile.

"Prat!"

She laughs at that. "And that sounds really odd when you say it."

My shoulders slump in defeat. "Well, I tried."

* * *

"Alright, what's the deal?" Harry asks, closing his Potions book. He looks expectantly at Hermione, then to me.

"What?" Hermione asks, seemingly surprised by the question.

"You two have been looking up and smiling at each other when the other one isn't looking," he says.

My mouth drops open, and I look at Hermione just as she turns to me. We both blush furiously. "Uh..."

"We may have, er, accidentally kissed the other day," Hermione says, not meeting Harry's eyes.

"Accidentally?" Harry asks.

"Um..." I say.

"Well, the first time might have counted as an accident," Hermione says, watching Harry closely for a response. "The second time wasn't," she added quietly.

Harry smiles at us, but it seems forced. "Good."

I flinch at his response. "I'm sor—"

"Don't, William," Harry cuts me off quickly. "Please don't. I...I'm jealous, of course, but you're...you're better for her. I want her to be happy, and you're the best one for that, as I've known for some time now."

Hermione looks like she wants to cry again.

I shake my head. "I'm not—"

"William—" she tries to cut me off, but I keep going.

"—the best one for that, Harry, but it doesn't matter right now. I wanted to tell you that Hermione and I are not together. Nothing about my situation has changed. But even ignoring that, it would...we are not in a rush, and we've got more important things to worry about to get distracted now." I know Harry would get mad if he thought we were staying apart for his sake, so I had to carefully word that one.

He seemed surprised by that. "I guess...that makes sense."

"We thought so, too," Hermione says with a relieved smile.

"Not that I would stop you even if Hermione and I were dating," I say seriously, "but I want to emphasize that nothing has changed, and therefore you must continue with the affectionate hugs and kisses and holding hands."

Harry snorts. "It's an open relationship, then?"

It's Hermione's turn to snort. "Honestly, can you imagine William _not_ flirting with Daphne and half the other females at Hogwarts? Professors and portraits of old ladies included, mind you."

"And yet, my lips have only touched one other pair in this entire school," I retort.

"So far, anyway," she shoots back.

I grin. "In case you forgot, yours touched Harry's too, back when he asked you to the Ball."

Her blush deepens now. "I suppose they did. Although, you know what that means, right? Harry and I accidentally kissed, William and I accidentally kissed..."

I start laughing. "Yes, to be fair, we have to complete the cycle, Harry."

"And...that's my cue to leave," Harry says, standing up quickly, "and by leave I mean run away screaming." This time, despite being mostly suppressed, the smile reaches his eyes.

* * *

"Something happened between you and Hermione," Daphne says one afternoon when she asks to speak with me alone. Now that I think about it, it's the first time we've been alone since we met in the Room of Requirement and talked about why she seemed to know more than my own best friends. I had told her what pieces of information she knows that Harry and Hermione don't, and that they knew many things that I hadn't shared with her. As a Slytherin this had satisfied her immediately, so it was a surprisingly pleasant talk despite the threats made beforehand...no protective cup or pain potions needed.

"What makes you say that?" I don't want to give anything away. She made me fall for that trick before, making a statement when it should be a question.

She raises an eyebrow at my neutral response. "A few slight differences in the dynamic between the three of you. It's subtle and I'm not sure I can put it into words, but it's there."

After a moment of consideration I sigh. "You're too good. We made a mistake when we were running some wandless magic experiments. We kissed."

Her expression tightens. "I don't see how that's a mistake."

"You are missing the information that makes it a mistake. I think you know me well enough to realize that, were it not a mistake, I would have kissed her a long time ago. Or I may have risked your wrath to try and kiss you first, I couldn't say."

She lets out a breath but otherwise ignores the last bit. "So are you going to share what makes it a mistake, or do I have to _Slytherin_ it out of you?"

I laugh at that. "You can try, if you aren't satisfied with the promise that I will share it eventually."

"I will hold you to that," she sniffs.

"I would expect nothing less," I say.

We walk in silence down the disused corridor for a time. "So you are finding my father's tome useful?"

I'm sure my face lights up with that question...a possible opening for inviting myself over! "Oh yes, very much so. I'd love to browse a collection that has stuff like that...if your father didn't mind giving that one as a gift, I can hardly imagine what treasures it still holds."

She looks at me askance. "That is more true than you know. The Head's collection of books and scrolls is often considered one of that family's precious treasures."

I deflate quickly. "Ah, sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, you couldn't have known," she says, waving my concerns away. "On the other hand, we do have an impressive library separate from that. Not as large as Hogwarts, but if you realize that Hogwarts has to stock multiple copies of certain works and lots of works for beginners, our library is not much less impressive. And at our house there's no restricted section." She adds the last with a little smirk.

"No need to rub it in, you tease." I almost said something about Hermione instead, but I have a feeling that would be a rather poor decision.

"Maybe you could see it sometime," she offers.

I stumble a bit, hardly believing my luck. I turn a frown on her. "That would be awesome, but don't get my hopes up. I don't know where I'll end up this summer."

"Hm." I guess my luck doesn't extend that far. After a few moments of silence I glance over and catch her watching me out of the corner of her eye. "How is that going to work out, anyway?"

"This summer? I have no idea."

"Are you going to go back to...wherever you came from? The States? Who is even going to decide that?"

My hesitation is all she needs.

She puffs out her cheeks. "Circe, William. You came over here by yourself? Surely you..." She trails off, abandoning that line of thought. "Do your friends know this?"

"You do," I say, giving her a small smile.

"You know what I mean."

"I do, but I wanted to remind you that you're my friend." I put my arm around her shoulders.

"As if you would let me forget." She rolls her eyes but doesn't go to remove my arm. "So do they know?"

"They don't...I guess it hasn't crossed their minds," I say with a shrug. "Harry's issues are rather more important, and more immediate."

"If you put off dealing with your own in favor of Harry's, I imagine it'll be a long time before you get to yours," she chides.

"Hopefully not," I say softly.

That brings her up short. She tosses my arm off her shoulders and spins to face me, ice-blue eyes blazing. "What are you planning, William?"

I return her gaze steadily. "You know I can't say."

Her arms visibly shake at her sides before she closes her eyes and calms herself. When her eyes open I'm shocked to find them shining slightly. "Damn you, William. Why can't you just..." She turns her head away and takes a deep breath, then resumes walking. I fall in beside her but say nothing. "I'm scared for you, William," she admits softly after some moments.

"I'm scared too, when I..." My eyes snap to her in suspicion, but her face is still turned away and partially obscured by her currently straightened, raven-black hair. I sigh, realizing that she has already sussed out this much. "I can separate myself from it when I'm just planning, but..."

She turns back to me, tears threatening even more. "Please, William. Please let me help."

Damn it, how am I supposed to do the smart thing when girls cry at me? I look away from her. "You'll recall that Hermione caught on to the fact that I told you more than they know, when you pointed your wand at me."

She groans slightly. "I said I was sorry about that," she says, a tinge of anger entering her voice. I realize it's anger at herself. "What did you tell her, anyway? I forgot to ask last time."

"I told her what I thought was a rather believable story and then distracted her so she wouldn't think about it too hard."

Her eyes widen. "That's not why you...you know..."

"No, no, that's not when...that happened." I look at her sideways. "I distracted her with something that is not mine to offer."

She furrows her brows, then shakes her head. "We're getting off-track here. Damn you, William, quit changing the subject."

"Actually, this is quite related. I...uh...I'm not quite sure how to say this, but I distracted her with books."

Her perplexed look remains. "Books?"

"A particular library, actually."

"What does that have to do with me helping—?" Suddenly her eyes snap to mine. "Did you actually _plan_ this?"

I smile sheepishly. "Uh, well that is why I stumbled a bit when you said maybe I could see it."

Her throaty laugh catches me off guard. "You never cease to surprise me, William. I'm starting to doubt that you were winging it all those times earlier this year. I think you've been holding back your Slytherin side. So, now that you've invited yourself over, when were you planning on visiting?"

I wince at that. "Sorry, Daphne, I—"

"No, no, William, I said I want to help you, and if your plan is stealing a look at my father's rare collection, then I'm going to help you do it," she says firmly. "When will it be, over the summer? Easter break?"

"I...wouldn't steal a look after what you told me," I argue, "I didn't know your family would have two separate libraries."

"Nonsense, that's almost certainly where you'll find what you're looking for," she says. "So, when?"

I feel my face go flush with embarrassment. "Uh, I was thinking Easter..."

"Done," she says with a smirk. But it fades at my hesitation. "What's wrong?"

I rack my brain trying to come up with a way to get Hermione invited.

She somehow reads the thought from me. "You weren't planning on coming alone, were you?"

I cringe a bit. "No?"

"And I suppose this is why Hermione's been so nice to me and my sister?" She doesn't sound pleased about that.

"No, that's not it," I say, holding my hands up, "I mean, that thought crossed _my_ mind, but no, I severely doubt it crossed hers. It's _Hermione _we're talking about here: she doesn't have a devious bone in her body."

She presses her lips together and processes that. "Fine. Any other surprises? I suppose you were going to invite several other people over, too?"

"Just Harry," I say quietly. "In fact, I thought he was our best shot, that perhaps Lord Greengrass might want to meet the future Lord Potter."

She laughs then, her full laugh that is so rare and so wonderful, the laugh that somehow softens those hard, ice-blue eyes of hers. "That's the _coup de grace_, William, you definitely should have been in Slytherin. I no longer believe you didn't plan any of our conversations."

I can't help but laugh with her. "I didn't. I think it's just that you've rubbed off on me." My smile fades and I cock my head back as I realize just how true that is. "You really have."

Her smile fades as well. "I think you already know what you've done to me."

"Sorry 'bout that, Daph."

She shakes her head, ignoring my use of her nickname. "Don't be. You may have complicated things quite a bit, but..." She shrugs.

"...but this is much more fun than outsmarting and fending off Death Eater wannabes," I finish for her.

She snorts. "I don't know if I would call it fun, exactly, but yes."

"Of course it's fun," I scoff, "I know for a fact there is a lot more hugging."

She scoffs back at me for that, but does not reply. "Well, I need to owl my father. Stori and I will work on him if necessary to get Hermione over, but I don't think you or Harry will be an issue."

"Oh Daphne, you're the best." I pull her into a hug, which she returns after a moment of rigidity. "Sorry about that, I forgot to ask first."

"I don't believe you forgot at all," she says softly.

"You are the best, though."

"Mmhmm."

* * *

Unsurprisingly Luna picks up on the different behavior among the three of us as well, though she shows even less of a reaction than Daphne. She merely smiles dreamily and gives me a hug, and she immediately accepts the same explanation we gave Harry when she expresses some confusion about why Hermione and I are not together now. I love Luna.

I spend a week breaking in my new rune-etching tools by perfecting a pair of rune lanterns and four rune shields for Sirius and Remus, and ask Harry to have Dobby deliver them with a note when it is safe to do so. He comes back with a hastily-penned letter for Harry, Hermione and I with their sincere thanks and how impressed they are with my work. They also include a brief update on the status of their hunt. Their progress makes me quite happy, so I decide to make extra shield runes to distribute to a particular group of people.

In the meantime Neville secures what he estimates as enough gillyweed for at least two and a half hours of underwater breathing. Among other things I make sure we review the Revulsion Jinx and the Severing Charm in preparation for facing the creatures and plants in the Lake. Luckily I don't have to hide what I know, since Hermione is already well aware of the grindylows and the giant squid thanks to _Hogwarts: A History_. Harry actually feels rather good about his chances to survive this one, so he, Hermione, and I meet in the Room of Requirement and start working on the actual strategy.

One piece of fanfiction I read provided a rather nice strategy to reaching the hostage. I suggest something quite similar – leaving out mention of hostages, of course – except that my plan still involves the use of gillyweed. The Harry in that story did not have foreknowledge of the Task, nor did he have Neville or Dobby hooking him up with it.

Hermione and I argue some of the finer points of the strategy, with Harry providing his own observations and opinions based on his abilities. Hermione has the Room conjure a pile of gravel and pebbles of various sizes for Harry to work with.

As Harry starts in on them, I glance at Hermione and smile broadly. Daphne wants to surprise Harry and Hermione with formal invitations, but I want to spill the news so bad.

She smiles back at me. "What is it?"

"Sorry, something good happened earlier today and I'm excited about it," I say. "You'll find out pretty soon."

Her smile fades. "Daphne took you aside earlier..."

"Yes, and it's a good surprise...don't you go and try to guess it, though," I say.

"William, you didn't...you and she aren't..."

Suddenly the reasoning behind her shining brown eyes hits me. "Oh, Hermione, it's not that!" I quickly pull her into a tight hug and kiss her on the top of the head. "How could you think it's that?"

"Well..." She makes a sort of annoyed grunt.

"Everything okay?" Harry asks.

Hermione gently pushes away to turn toward him. "Yeah, sorry Harry...I'm just...being stupid."

"I got a bit too excited and I made the mistake of telling her I had some good news that you both will find out about soon," I say, trailing off as I consider whether or not to just tell them.

"It's not your fault, William, I just saw you with Daphne earlier and I jumped to the wrong conclusion." Hermione says in a slightly angry tone.

Harry clears his throat, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Right, well..."

"Sorry, Harry, how is the sizing going?" Hermione asks, wiping at her face with her sleeves and trying to get back to business.

The tension in his face drains away at her tone. "I have it down pretty well with a certain size piece of gravel, but that's not enough for the smaller pebbles. And I can't seem to stack the same charms on the same object; if I get it wrong I have to cancel it and try again."

"We've still got time, but if all else fails you just carry a few pieces of gravel with you and keep trying until you get it right," Hermione says, tapping her lips in thought.

"That's perfect," I say to Harry with a grin, "then I can ask you if you've got a pile of rocks in your pocket or if you're just happy to see Fleur in her swimsuit."

"William!"

"What? Harry will be the one with the solid bulge in his pocket, not me," I say.

"I dunno, William. You might be carrying some gravel, too, depending on how skimpy her suit is," Harry says with a smirk.

"Harry!"

"It's not Harry's fault, Hermione," I say, then a bubble of laughter escapes me at a funny thought. "Actually between him, Cedric, and Viktor, you might be carrying some gravel in your pocket right along with the rest of the female population."

Hermione scoffs. "That doesn't even make sense!"

I grin widely. "And yet you'll know exactly what I mean when I say it."

* * *

The next morning, the surprise – well, a surprise for Harry and Hermione – comes as promised. The three of us receive formal invitations to Greengrass Manor over the Easter holidays. Hermione immediately replies with a squeal of excitement and a bone-crushing hug for Harry, causing Daphne to smile and shake her head over at the Slytherin table.

"Hey Hermione," I say with a smile, "is that gravel in your pocket or are you just happy to read your letter?"

She's too excited to even roll her eyes at me.

* * *

A/N:

I fully intended to get to the Second Task in this chapter, but Hermione surprised me (and I mean both versions of 'me') with that kiss and these scenes wrote themselves. That was not supposed to happen. I actually got stuck on this chapter for a few weeks, debating over whether or not I should remove that scene, or perhaps just the second kiss. I really did come in to writing this story without the intention of William getting close to her or anybody else, but this is how it came out. I actually thought I'd get a lot of crap in reviews about 'my' relationship with Hermione, but not a single one (and I'm at over a hundred reviews as I write this note) has complained about it.

In fact, the only reviews that mention the relationships are the ones that tell me to get on with it already. In my head William is just as stubborn as Harry and Hermione about stuff like that, though maybe I've not gotten that across very well. So tell me what you really think. I mean, c'mon people, I've gotten over a hundred reviews at the time of this writing and only one person has told me they dislike my story enough to stop reading, and even then he gave me constructive criticism. One! And I've not gotten a single flame! Surely you can do better.

Check the author notes in the next chapter for the fanfiction reference in this one. Can't give away Harry's strategy beforehand, after all.

R & R, C & C.


	20. Chapter 20: The Second Task

Disclaimer: Not only does JK Rowling own me, but now, apparently, her characters own me as well.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Twenty: The Second Task**

"Hey Hermione, McGonagall wants to see you."

Those few words send a chill straight through my body. It would have been enough that Fred and George delivered the message without any jokes or pranks, but given that it's February twenty-third, the day before the Second Task, I know exactly why she's being taken away.

"William?" Harry asks with furrowed brows.

Hermione looks back in concern, and I realize I'm breathing harder than I should be. "What's wrong?"

How the hell am I going to get out of this one? I close my eyes to seek the Void and force myself to calm down. "Just a bad feeling is all."

"I'm sure it's fine, it's just Professor McGonagall," she says with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure I'll be right back."

"Of course," I say back. I look away quickly to stop myself from seeing her walk away, because I'd be too tempted to stop her. She had kept her distance from me since the kiss, which just goes to show how much stronger she is than I am. We still catch ourselves sharing the looks that Harry had noticed, but thankfully our physical contact had been limited to entwined arms.

"What's going on, William?" Harry asks.

Neville and Ron look up from the chess board with concern as well as we lounge about in the Common Room shortly before curfew.

"Later," I say, stalling for time.

I turn my eyes back to the book, avoiding Harry's questioning gaze for some time. Pretending to read isn't working for me, so I stand up and walk away without a destination in mind. I come to one of the stained glass windows and stare at it without taking in any details.

"Nervous, William?" Parvati asks from a chair next to me. I turn my head to see her and Lavender sitting with a younger girl I don't recognize.

"Mm," I say noncommittally.

"Why?" Lavender asks with furrowed brows, and Parvati shoots her a look.

"Harry doesn't seem to be nervous," Parvati says more diplomatically. "You guys have been training for this, right? I'm sure he'll be the best again."

"He's Harry Potter, after all," the other girl says.

"He is that," I say.

Parvati stands and wraps her arms around me. It startles me at first, an effect exacerbated by the small gasp that Lavender makes, but I relax enough to return it before she stands back and pats my arm with a smile.

Surprisingly, it does lift my mood; obviously I am a sucker for hugs. "Thanks, Parvati," I say, returning her smile.

"You looked like you could use a hug."

"I could pretty much always use a hug from a pretty girl," I say. "In fact I think I'm going to walk around looking morose more often if this is how it's going to turn out."

The three of them giggle at that. "I've already said you don't need to resort to tricks with me," Parvati says. "Although from what I've seen you usually do have a pretty girl on hand for hugs. I can hardly believe you actually managed to become friends with Daphne Greengrass after what Lav and I saw in the dungeon."

"Just a bit of tough love is all," I say with a grin.

"What's the deal with all you guys, anyway?" Lavender asks hopefully. "I even saw Viktor Krum spending time with your group." I see the other girl also leaning in hopefully, which makes me have to suppress a laugh.

"Fishing for the latest gossip, are we?" At her embarrassment I have to let loose a light chuckle. "I'm afraid that the rumors probably make for a far more interesting story. There are no couples among us." At first I think that she might faint with gossip-induced excitement if I told her what happened between Hermione and I a few weeks ago, but then I remember that she thinks something way more interesting happened even before that.

"What did Krum want, help with the Tournament?" Parvati asks.

"No, he just likes our company, since we don't..." I trail off as I realize that it's entirely possible that Lavender and the other girl are some of those who fawn over him. "...well, he likes being treated normal I guess. Anyway, thanks again, Parv." I speak quickly so as not to make a big deal out of it. I grab another hug then wave goodbye, making my way back toward Harry and the others.

Harry is smiling at me and shaking his head. "I see how it is, Hermione steps out for a minute and you immediately go running into the arms of another girl. She will be most interested to hear of this."

I give him a small smile at that but say nothing. Ron asks Harry to play a game of chess to keep his mind off things, to which Harry gladly agrees. In the mean time I have to quietly and repeatedly assure Neville that he did, in fact, obtain more than enough gillyweed. He kept talking about actually asking Snape for more, though he trembles visibly at the thought. He unconsciously grips at his chest while he's doing this. My heart jumps when I see the circular outline underneath. Neville notices and sheepishly pulls out the medallion. I can't help but smile so wide that it hurts.

Soon after that, Harry looks up from his game and knits his brows at the clock. "Hermione's still not back yet," he says with concern. This wipes the smile off my face pretty quick, and Harry notices. "What's going on, William? Uh, I won't tell her about the Parvati thing if you don't want me to."

"It's not that, that's fine, but..." I trail off. How to play this? Obviously I can say I figured it out from the clue, but will they wonder why I didn't say something earlier? Harry will be distracted, but I can always claim I didn't think it was a very likely possibility. I look three of my roommates and sigh. "I don't think Hermione's coming back tonight."

"_What_?" Harry asks, shooting up out of his chair, nearly knocking over the small table he and Ron were using for their game. He looks ready to dash out of the portrait hole, only waiting for me to follow.

"She's okay, Harry, but..." I put up a Privacy Charm for just the four of us. "Do you remember what the egg said?"

The blood drains out of his face. "_We've taken what you'll sorely miss_," Harry intones in a dull voice.

I nod grimly. "I did consider that it might be something like this, but with the last two lines, I didn't think..."

"_Too late it's gone, it won't come back_," Harry was back to panic mode again. "William, we have to go get her!"

"Harry, Dumbledore and McGonagall won't let anything happen to her," I say.

"He's right, mate. You can use this as motivation to get her as fast as possible," Ron offers. I close my eyes, knowing that is not the right thing to say.

"I don't care about the damn Tournament, Ron!" Harry's eyes practically glow Killing Curse green, causing Ron to flinch and cower.

"Harry," I say, searching for some way to redirect his ire. Then the solution comes to me. "If we go get her, they'll need someone in her place. They will have taken somebody else from the other Champions as well." His anger starts to give way to concern, and I take a deep breath. "I'll take her place if you want."

"No!" Harry says vehemently.

"Let me, Harry!" Ron blurts out. "I know you're worried about what might happen to her, but I'm not. I know I'll be fine, so let me."

This actually does more to calm Harry than my offer. "I can't let you take her place, Ron, if I'm this worried about her. How can I trade one friend for another like that?" I can tell he's wavering, though.

"Are you kidding me? I'd love to take part in the Tournament! You and William get all the birds, think about what this will do for me!"

I cough out a laugh at the unexpectedness of that, and even Harry and Neville join in with a chuckle. This has a much more thorough calming effect on Harry. "Are you sure, Ron?"

"Absolutely!" I have to smile at Ron's enthusiasm and his ability to calm Harry down better than I could. It reminds me that Ron would have been as close to Harry as I am if I hadn't been here, which makes me feel bad. His jealousy issues crop up far more than they should, but he's a good friend otherwise.

Harry sighs and rubs his face. "Okay, let's go get Hermione."

The four of us head up to our room, where Harry pulls out the Marauder's Map. Once again I'm forced to endure the concern that Moody/Crouch is going to be discovered, but fortunately, this time the Map says Moody is in his office by himself. Unfortunately, however, Hermione is not to be found.

"McGonagall," Harry says simply, standing up and charging out of our room.

"Should we go, too?" Ron asks.

"You guys go ahead, you don't need me for this," Neville says.

I'm tempted to say the same, but I'm too curious to find out how it goes, so Ron and I both dash out after him. We catch the portrait just before it closes, and while I didn't see any of them, surprisingly none of the Prefects try to stop us. Apparently they're used to the antics of Harry and friends by now. Harry throws the cloak over the three of us, and Ron and I have to do a sort of crouch-walk to hide our legs as much as possible. My legs hurt quite a bit by the time we reach Professor McGonagall's office.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry demands, not bothering to greet our Head of House.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but Professor Dumbledore escorted her away shortly after she arrived," Professor McGonagall says with a frown.

Harry is livid. "But Professor—!"

"No buts, Mr. Potter. Seeing as you were only concerned for your classmate, I shall not deduct points from any of you, but I insist the three of you return to your dormitory." Her normal stern expression fades. "And please do try to get some sleep; it wouldn't do to have to face the Second Task on too little rest."

Harry looks like he wants to protest, but Ron places a hand on his shoulder and gives a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Thankfully the pass provided by Professor McGonagall meant that we didn't have to do the painful crouch-walk, from which I still had not recovered. The Fat Lady started to scold us until we showed her the pass, after which she huffed and started muttering under her breath as she opened for us. Harry flashed the pass toward the Prefects who looked up at our entrance, and we went straight to our room.

"What are we going to do?" Harry asked, voice hard.

"She'll be okay, Harry," I say in what I hope is a comforting voice. "Just stick with the plan and you'll have her back in no time."

"You won't fail in this, Harry," Neville says confidently. "You never do."

Ron nods vigorously. "They've got the right of it, mate, Hermione will be fine. Let's get some sleep."

Despite my confidence in Harry's abilities, it takes me a long time to fall asleep. Before Dean and Seamus even come in Ron is already snoring loudly. Some time later I open my eyes and see Harry sitting up, staring at the window. With a small groan I hoist myself up and head over.

"Can't sleep either?" I ask quietly.

He frowns and shakes his head.

"Can't blame you. I'm not even the one competing and I still can't sleep. Your dream ward isn't dead, is it?"

Harry shakes his head but doesn't speak right away. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Ward's fine. Great, even. It's just that Hermione has been my best friend for over three years. I know it's because of all that stuff we've gotten into together, but I hate that it keeps happening. Hasn't she done enough? She doesn't deserve this." As he speaks the whisper becomes more heated.

"No, but then, nobody does. You certainly don't deserve the hell you've been put through." I also take a deep breath. "You guys do your damnedest to keep each other safe, that's the important part. It won't always be possible to be safe, but as long as you stick together, you're already sticking it to Riddle. He doesn't have anybody, and he doesn't want you to have anybody either. But you do, and that's why you're stronger than he is."

Harry looks at me a moment, expression unreadable. "That's pretty sad, when you think about it."

I nod. "Yeah. It is...pitiful, too. But while the child he once was may deserve your pity, he doesn't deserve any mercy, now. He is too far gone for redemption...not even Dumbledore would argue that." I chuckle grimly. "Actually, he probably would. I suppose that's why Grindelwald is still alive in Nurmengard."

"_He is_?" Harry asks incredulously.

"He is. I think the difference is that Grindelwald actually wanted political power, and he thought his ideas were right. Riddle doesn't even care. Actually, he _knows_ he's wrong, since he's a half-blood himself. He's just addicted to power, and no amount of it will ever be enough."

Harry silently processes that. "How do you fight someone like that?"

A rhetorical question, so I don't answer it. The prophecy gave him the answer anyway: Riddle just has to die. Simple as that, right? With any luck he won't have to worry about Riddle himself for much longer.

"What's this, William Lerner doesn't have any ideas?" Harry asks with a hint of playfulness.

I snort. "Of course I do, I'm conscious, aren't I? I come up with ideas in my sleep."

"Well, how about it then?"

Oh, I guess he did want an answer. "Well every day that you're alive is an insult to him. Any time you're happy or even content only adds to that insult. Your situation sucks, to be sure, but not being able to afford to worry about the long-term has its plus sides. You fight by pouring all your energy into tackling one challenge after another, starting with pulling Hermione out of the Lake tomorrow. You don't even have to be quick about it; who cares if that ass Karkaroff gives you a zero? Hell, you don't even have to get Hermione, she'll be fine. Just be on the lookout for real danger and get through tomorrow, then you'll have bested that challenge and you're on to the next one."

Harry turns toward me and considers that for several moments before he nods determinedly. "Thanks, William. I suppose I should try to lay down again."

I yawn widely at the mention of sleep. "I could try hitting you with a Stunner, or maybe a spell of my own to put you to sleep."

Harry chuckles quietly. "No offense, but I'd like to make sure I can wake up in time tomorrow."

"That is a wise decision. For both of us, I mean. I wouldn't be surprised if it just bounced right off of you and knocked me out right here on the floor. 'Night Harry."

"G'night, Will."

Surprisingly, despite the lack of a normal night's sleep, I awaken a solid hour and a half before the Task is scheduled to start. I'm glad to see Harry is still asleep when I slip out of bed to take a shower, in which I soak for a good long time, thinking about the next few months. Right now I'm assuming that we can't figure out how to remove the Horcrux from Harry, though if that works it makes my job a lot easier. If it goes how I think, then...well...

"You alright in there, mate?" Ron calls in.

"Be right out!"

I exit the shower to find Harry doing our usual pre-run stretching, an hour before the Task. He smiles at me. "Alright, William?"

"I'm feelin' good about today, how about you, Harry?"

"Well enough, I suppose."

"Excellent! Let's go eat a bit and then you can go kick the Second Task in the balls!"

He laughs. "Do Tasks have...what do you call them...balls?"

"Well, if not, you can always pretend either Karkaroff or Snape is the personification of it," I point out, grinning. "If anybody deserves a kick in the stones it's those two."

* * *

Making our way down to the lake, Ron and Neville walk confidently on the opposite side of Harry. Luna is walking next to Neville, but of course she appears neither confident nor concerned. In fact, she spends most of the time not even looking at the Lake. I try to match them – well, the other two Gryffindors – but I have to admit I am quite nervous. Harry's rigid walk is not helping, either. The impressive wooden dock constructed for Tournament – built almost opposite of the shore where the Durmstrang ship floats majestically – is already full of spectators, so at least one of the Champions is probably already there.

A pair of black-and-green robed students break off and scurry towards us. As they near, I see they are young girls, and soon enough I recognize the one with raven-black hair just before she calls out to me in a worried voice. "William! Harry!"

"Hey, Stori," I call back. I give it a moment and the concern in her violet eyes is plain. "What's wrong?"

"Have you seen Daph? She didn't come back last night! Tracey and Blaise are looking in the Castle and I came out here but I can't find her!"

Astoria and her friend fall into step with us as Harry and I share a glance. He gives me a nod, so I turn back to the worried younger sister. "I think she's down there already, actually. Somebody came and got Hermione last night and she didn't come back, either."

"What does that mean, Will?" If anything the worry is even stronger now.

I put my arm around her and squeeze her to my side, which makes us walk slower. "They're both okay, Stori. It seems this Task is for the Champions to rescue somebody from the bottom of the lake. Dumbledore and the Ministry wouldn't let anything happen to them, so don't worry about them having to hold their breath all this time."

"But...but why Daph? Why Hermione?" Thankfully Astoria is starting to calm down.

"Well you aren't supposed to know this, but the hint said something like, '_we've taken what you'll sorely miss_.' So I assume Hermione is Harry's hostage, and Daphne is Viktor's."

"Really? But he and Daph don't spend as much time together as you and her." Her worry turns more to confusion, so that's good.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I say with a shrug. "I think Viktor is a bit lonely from his fame, and Daphne was the first one who treated him like anybody else. You know, it may have been love at first glare."

Astoria bursts out laughing, and I notice her friend hadn't heard a single word. She's just looking between Harry, Astoria, and I with wide eyes.

"I'm William, by the way," I say to her.

"Oh, sorry! Will, this is Ursula, one of my roommates. Ursula, this is William, he was my date for the Ball, and then that's Harry, Ron, Neville, and Luna." She didn't wait for their greetings. "You're sure she'll be okay?"

"Positive," I say. "Now, I would ask why you gave up your positions, but I'm afraid there won't be much to see since most of the action will be underwater."

"Most? We'll only get to see the Champions diving in," she says bitterly.

"Oh, I think you'll find Harry's dive a little more fun," I say with a grin. "Don't tell anybody, though."

Astoria's eyes widen with excitement and she spends the rest of the walk trying to get me to tell. The crowd parts for Harry when he starts to break off from us and head toward roped-off area with Dumbledore and the other judges. I see Cedric and Viktor there, but I imagine Fleur is waiting as long as possible. The three of us Gryffindors and the two Slytherins say our goodbyes and good lucks – Astoria with a hug, much to Ursula's surprise – and head off to find a good spot.

We pass Fleur's delegation as we make our way back from the docks. I give Veronique a smile and a wave, which she returns with a tiny, hidden smile and a nod and earns me a glare from the Champion herself.

"Popular with the Beauxbatons girls, William?" Astoria asks with a grin.

"I think Fleur's starting to like me," I say.

That earns a snort from Astoria and nervous laughter from the others. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Right here, for a moment," I say. "Okay, Stori, stand here and face the lake, then draw your wand."

Her eyes snap up to mine in concern for a moment. I realize I could have said that a little more tactfully. "Okay..." she says uncertainly.

I hold my hand out, palm facing up. "Now hold your hand like this, and balance your wand on top. Try to point your wand directly toward the center of the docks behind us."

She does so. "Okay."

"Now think about your sister...picture her in your mind, the long, flowing, raven-black hair, the intense ice-blue eyes, the way she presses her lips together when she wants to say something but is holding it back. Fill your mind with memories of her, concern for her, and your desire to find her. Think about how you want to find her more than anything else. Now, say, 'Point me.'"

"Point me!" Astoria gasps as the wand lifts up off of her hand slightly then turns, pointing maybe fifteen degrees to the left. It stays pointed at the same spot for several seconds, and idly I wonder if it would follow its target if it was moving.

"Excellent! Well done, Stori." I ruffle her hair a bit. "Now let's go find a spot, shall we?" I start walking toward the edge of the dock furthest from the castle.

"Did...did that just point to my sister?" she asks incredulously.

"Yes it did," I confirm. "Well, sort of. Apparently it can't point downward."

"You taught me a new spell!"

"A dead useful one, too," I say. "Although, if you knew it earlier this morning you probably would have freaked out a bit when you figured out where it pointed, huh?"

She lets out a breath. "Sweet Circe, I would have died."

I smile at that. "It's so cute that you and Daph curse the same way."

She blushes and mock glares at me. "What was all that stuff about my sister, anyway?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," I say with a grin.

"Uh huh," she says, crossing her arms. "Aren't you jealous that she's going to be rescued by Viktor, and Hermione by Harry?"

I laugh. "Of course not. I'd be too scared to go myself. Besides, I've already got the prettiest girl in the school walking next to me."

Ursula's jaw drops at my proclamation but Astoria slaps me in the arm playfully.

"Ow, not you, too!"

"You shouldn't have told me where their favorite spot is," she says triumphantly, though the effect is ruined when she absently rubs the same spot lightly. Maybe I shouldn't pretend it hurts.

"Point me!" Luna says suddenly. I look over to find her wand still resting comfortably on her outstretched hand. "Point me!" The wand slowly spins and points back toward the castle. She quickly resets it. "Point me!" It stays still again. "Point me!" This time it spins to the area near Hagrid's hut before she once again pulls it out of the air. "Point me!" It stays still again.

"What are you doing, Luna?" Neville asks.

"I've just determined there are no Crumple-horned Snorkacks in the immediate vicinity," she says. "I can reach the castle and the stables, but I can't reach the nearest dragon, wherever that might be, and I can't reach my father."

I smile. "Brilliant as always, Luna." Briefly I wonder why Xeno isn't here, considering this is where the news will be, but then I remember what kind of 'news' usually appears in_ The Quibbler_.

"What's a Crumple-horned—?" Astoria begins, but thankfully Ludo Bagman's voice booms over the area, announcing the imminent beginning of the Second Task.

He goes over the tight scores: Cedric's thirty-eight, Fleur's thirty-nine, and Viktor and Harry's forty, the last of which draws a chorus of boos and somebody loudly cursing Karkaroff's name.

Astoria tugs on my sleeve, so I bend down so she can speak into my ear. "I wanna see!"

With a grin, I push out a stream of magic and gently lift her up to my shoulders, making sure to grab her boots before she kicks me in the face with her flailing. As soon as she lands she quickly scrunches herself down and wraps her arms around my head. "Is that better?" I call up to her.

"No!"

"I won't drop you, Stori," I say, smiling. "Think of it as payback for all those spins and dips you made me do at the dance!"

"I am so gonna get you back when I get down!" She slowly lifts her head away from mine, tentatively craning her neck up to get a glimpse of the Champions.

Luna turns around and spots Astoria on my shoulders, at which time she tugs on Neville's sleeve and points. He looks back and his eyes bulge, then he turns back to the scraggly blonde-haired Ravenclaw and shakes his head sadly, pointing to himself. Luna looks back at me pleadingly, so I smile and get Neville's attention. Her slate gray eyes widen with delight when I levitate her up to his shoulders. She happily settles in, despite his obvious discomfort. He very slowly and carefully turns around to face the Champions.

Astoria taps my left shoulder as a signal to look at Ursula, who is shaking her head vigorously, and Ron, who is standing very stiffly with a very red face, deliberately keeping his eyes fixed on the center of the docks. I shake my head and hold up a finger at Astoria, telling her to wait.

Bagman introduces each champion separately, and they shed their cloaks and step up on a pedestal that serves as a sort of starting block. The pedestals are on a piece of the dock that sticks out further than the rest, so when Ursula places herself on the corner, she can see them. I was going to lift her, too, but I guess that is no longer necessary. Finally the announcer begins his countdown, which causes Astoria to clench her legs in anticipation. Thankfully it's only a few seconds, so I let it slide.

"Three, two, one, GO!"

Viktor dives in immediately. Cedric and Fleur put Bubblehead Charms on themselves and dive in shortly after. Harry jabs his wand into the sky, and in a matter of seconds, his Firebolt, which we placed by Hagrid's hut, flies into his hand. He hops on it and shoots away over the surface of the water, slanted in our direction. After some time he stops for a few moments before going off at a slower pace. He repeats that twice more, and he's pretty far away at this point. A moment later, I can see him enlarge a piece of gravel and disappear underneath the water.

Bagman's voice booms over the dying cheers of the crowd. "Absolutely brilliant use of the Four-Point Spell, and my spotters have told me Mr. Potter ate something and engorged a rock before disappearing into the Lake. I daresay he's gained quite a lead over his older competition! That just goes to show you that it takes a lot more than age to—"

I tune out the commentary, which spends an inordinate amount of time praising Harry and unnecessarily reminding everyone of the popular version of his history. I suppose they are trying to avoid the doldrums, now...apparently the organizers never thought about just how boring this Task would be for everybody else.

Five minutes into it, the crowd starts chatting and mingling amongst themselves.

Luna breaks the silence first in our little group. "No thank you, Neville, I am quite comfortable up here."

"Um, you can let me down now, William," Astoria says as the people around us wander off.

"Nonsense! I shall be your trusty steed, milady. Now, whither shall we frolic and sundry?" I know that doesn't make sense but I just wanted to say 'and sundry.' I spin around and she gives a yelp, after which I pretend to gallop away.

"Astoria?" A woman's voice brings me up short.

"Oh, hello, mother."

Oh, damn. I turn to the voice, hoping my face isn't too red. "Lady Greengrass," I say in what I hope is a confident voice, as if I'm not carrying her daughter around on my shoulders. The fact that this woman is a more mature – and thus quite beautiful – version of Daphne, does not help my blush. "My name is William Lerner, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." I push a stream of magic out my left hand to gently levitate Astoria off of my shoulders and offer my right to her mother.

Her mother raises an eyebrow as Astoria floats slowly to the ground, then she places her hand lightly on my own. I bow over them and brush my lips over her knuckles. "Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Lerner."

"I assure you I am only perhaps three-quarters as awful as they've no doubt made me out to be," I say with a smile.

She cracks a small smile. "I was quite surprised when my daughter insisted on the most advanced wandless magic text we had, but I see that my husband's disbelief was quite misplaced. It's a shame he missed it."

"I did not," Lord Greengrass says, walking over to us from the main cluster of people. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Lerner."

"And you, Lord Greengrass," I say, shaking his hand. Between the both of them seeing their youngest daughter on my shoulders, my reaction to the sight of Lady Greengrass, and the praise, I'm sure my face is thoroughly flushed by now. "And, uh, sorry for putting her on my shoulders..."

"Nonsense, my boy," the man says, clapping me on the shoulder.

"We watched you with her for most of the morning," Lady Greengrass says with a knowing smile.

"Mom!" Astoria whines.

"We were looking for you to let you know about Daphne," her mother explains. "We had a visit late last night asking for permission, and given assurances for her safety. It seems that Mr. Lerner here assuaged your concern."

"And taught you a new spell, unless I miss my guess," her father adds.

I try to apologize again, but Astoria jumps in first. "He did! He and Harry figured out why Hermione was missing and then he showed me how to get my wand to point to Daph! Watch this...point me!" Her wand spins toward the lake then halts.

"Very nice, Stori," her mother says with a big smile.

Her father looks at me. "The Four-Point Spell, same as the one Mr. Potter used from his broom, isn't it?"

I nod. "That's the one."

"Did you teach Harry, too?" Astoria asks.

I shake my head and smile. "No, Hermione taught him that one. If you need to learn a spell, she could teach you just as well as Professor Flitwick. That is, assuming she's not hanging out with the Selkies a few hundred meters underwater."

"This is the same Hermione that we've invited over for the upcoming holiday break," Lady Greengrass deduces, "is it not?"

"It is," Astoria says with a broad smile.

"Thank you again for inviting us," I say, hoping to put my embarrassment behind me, "I know I speak for the three of us when I say we're all honored and excited that you would welcome us to spend the holiday with your family."

Lord Greengrass waves it off, saying his daughters were most insistent and convincing. Just when I think I've gotten past the embarrassment, Lady Greengrass brings up the gifts I made for them, causing me to blush all over again. I have to explain once again that the Ophion pendant was entirely coincidental.

Some time later, a chorus of gasps precedes a rush back to the front of the docks. I look up and only twenty minutes has passed. Ludo Bagman's _Sonorus_-enhanced voice once again reverberates through the valley. "Ladies and gentlemen, Harry Potter has already surfaced, and he's making his way back! It appears—yes, his hostage is on some sort of flotation device and is being towed toward us at an impressive speed! Only twenty minutes into the hour, and Harry Potter is gliding to victory!"

I dash to the front with Astoria and her parents in tow. "How is he swimming so fast?" Astoria asks.

"That would be the gillyweed that Neville procured for him," I say with a smile toward the adults. "I believe he took about a half-hour's dose to start, so he's going to have to stay underwater for a bit."

This information must have been overheard, because Bagman soon announced what it was Harry had eaten just before he had disappeared, earning hefty praise for his strategy, of course.

Madam Pomfrey and the Healers from the other schools were standing by in the roped-off section of the dock, along with their assistants, to warm and dry the rescued hostages and attend to injured Champions. I'm tempted to signal Harry and do that myself, but that would put my wandless abilities on display for the entire crowd. With most of them speaking amongst themselves I am much more discreet when letting Astoria down.

Hermione hangs on to the transfigured white foam life-preserver as Harry drags it to the dock, unable to keep the smile off of her face at the wild cheering. She must have performed a warming charm herself, or had Harry do it, since she isn't shivering uncontrollably despite being completely soaked in the chill late-February air.

I'm slightly annoyed that the Healers make her climb the ladder instead of levitating her, but they have her wrapped in a large, heavy, tan-colored towel in no time. She finds and keeps her happy chocolate eyes on mine while Madam Pomfrey asks questions directly in her ear, to which she shakes her head several times before nodding and being released. She darts over to me and I quickly lift her into a hug and before we sneak away from at least the portion of the crowd trying to get a glimpse of Harry. Several people follow us as well, shouting questions to Hermione. Lord Greengrass does an admirable job keeping them back.

"Sorry I'm getting you all wet," Hermione says.

I grin and push out a stream of magic, after which the water just falls away from the pair of us, leaving us both completely dry except for the water that splashed on my boots. Astoria squeaks and jumps back towards her mother. I'm tempted to make a pregnancy joke, but I settle for another hug and saying, "that's okay."

She says something but the shouted questions drown it out, so I put up a Privacy Charm. "Thank you, William," she says again.

"We were really worried about you. You should have seen Harry...it's a good thing you weren't on the grounds by the time we went to find you, I think he would have fought Dumbledore to get you back."

She blushes at that. "And you wouldn't have?"

"Well, maybe I would have helped a bit," I say with a grin. "You know, Tripping Jinx at his back or something."

Her smile fades. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? When I found out what was happening, I thought about your face all night."

My smile fades as well. "I suspected. But perhaps we should get back, let you answer some questions from your adoring fans."

"We'll talk later," she says, looking at me suspiciously.

Just when I'm about to drop the Privacy Charm, Hermione turns away, her now very bushy and frizzy hair catches my attention. "Wait!" She freezes at my command, and I start digging through her hair. I remember that Skeeter was hiding there in the book, but she doesn't seem to be doing so now. Unfortunately my fingers keep getting caught in tangles.

"Ow, what are you doing?"

"Uh..." My stomach is starting to hurt from the magic I've done so far, but... "When I dried your hair, it kind of exploded into a pile of frizz. I figured the least I could do is tame it a bit."

"Oh..." Her face is well hidden but I can practically feel the blush.

I keep running my fingers through her hair, except now I'm pushing out my magic with the intent of loosening the tangles, and after half a minute I feel like I've done a respectable job. But not having any sense of what I'm supposed to be doing, her hair ends up quite straight. Without the usual curls and kinks, her hair reaches down to her shoulder blades. "Um, okay, I guess I'm done."

She quickly reaches back to check it and gasps, then spins around to face me, hair flaring out as she does so.

I cringe a bit. "Sorry, did I mess up?"

"H-how did you do that?"

"I dunno, is it okay? Sorry, but I didn't know how to make it look like it normally does."

Just then Lady Greengrass steps in with a handheld mirror, and suddenly I remember that we were surrounded by people watching us. I hear Hermione gasp again just before I drop the Privacy Charm and find that most people have lost interest and it's significantly quieter. Astoria and Ursula are together once again, standing near Astoria's mother, all of whom are looking at the two of us with curious expressions. Her father is speaking to a few reporters, keeping them away from us. I look up at the clock to find that only five minutes have passed since she was pulled out of the water, twenty-five minutes into the competition.

"Um, do you want to go back for when Harry comes out?"

She looks up at me with shining brown eyes, and I wonder if she's nearly crying because I messed up her hair or because she likes it. "Okay," she says.

"Welcome back," Lady Greengrass says with a small smile. "Astoria told me about this Privacy Charm of yours...you are full of surprises, Mr. Lerner."

Hermione quickly recovers. "You have no idea how true that is, Lady Greengrass. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Before they and Astoria can get too far in their game of making me blush, a nearby gasp and a shout from down the dock snaps our attention back to the lake. Harry had just downed another half handful of gillyweed and shot off toward something that had appeared on top of the relatively calm lake. Gasps and cries of concern sound out as it becomes clear that it is a body and the water is tinted red in that direction. I glance around and everybody seems to be watching in mute horror, making me rather angry...why the hell didn't anybody bring a broom? I Summon Harry's, which shoots over from where he left it – well off to the left of the body. Without thinking or even looking around I hop on and race toward the body, barely registering Hermione yelling my name.

I get going way too fast before I realize my mistake: I've never tried to go this fast, let alone stop afterward. I slowly begin tilting backwards, but I'm still coming up on them going far too fast. Harry reaches her just when I see that it's Fleur. What the hell? She's not supposed to be hurt! I blow right past them before I...for lack of a better physical understanding of what I'm doing...skid to a stop and get myself turned around. Harry looks frantic.

I jab my finger downward. "Go get her sister, I'll take her!" A stream of magic causes my stomach to clench painfully, but I lift her gently out of the water. She looks quite pale, and blood drips from bite and horn-made puncture wounds on her limbs and neck. Harry stares at me pleadingly, then nods gratefully and disappears. I want to close her neck wounds immediately, but it would be very bad if I passed out now. The pain in my stomach tells me I need to be quick, but I'm not confident enough on the broom to aim for the dock while levitating her. I aim slightly to the left of it – between the castle and the dock – and accelerate as fast as I dare. I move Fleur slightly to the side in front of me after drops of blood and lake water splash on my face.

I get to shore before the healers have made their way over, and I practically fall off Harry's broom and set her down as gently as possible. My stomach is now twisted in knots and my head is pounding, but I force every bit of magic I can out through my hands with the intent of healing the wounds on her neck. I can feel it start to work, but it's taking so long! I try to push through the pain in my head and my stomach, but her blood pulses out as weakly as I imagine her heart is beating, seemingly undoing any progress I make with each beat.

Gods damn it, I changed something, and I can't let her die from it! With a scream of frustration, I jam a mental fist into the source of my magic, fiercely willing more of it out.

Suddenly, a pulse of power sends a jolt of vicious pain and burning energy through my body. Instinctively I force some of it out through my hands, which start to glow white as I hold them over Fleur's body. I catch some of the flesh on her neck quickly knit together just before my vision blurs and darkens. I try unsuccessfully to shake it away, then quickly move to where I remember the next nastiest lacerations on her wrists and near where I think her femoral artery is. I can't see what I'm doing at this point, but I keep pushing and pushing until the blackness takes me.

* * *

A/N:

Are cliffhangers still bad if the next chapter is already written?

Obviously I'm not using the movie version of the second task, which they apparently placed large floating platforms straight above the Merpeople village. In the book, Harry had no idea where the village was until Moaning Myrtle met him. In case you didn't catch it, I'm using a similar strategy to the one jbern had Harry use in _The Lie I've Lived_ with my own modifications, made possible thanks to my fanon knowledge.

R & R, C & C.


	21. Chapter 21: Deflected Explanations

Disclaimer: JK Rowling eats cliffhangers for breakfast, with a side of people who falsely claim to own Harry Potter.

Post-review note: It's funny that everybody hates cliffhangers, but I got more reviews faster than I have before when I did it. Not the best way to convince authors to avoid them, you know!

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Twenty-One: Deflected Explanations**

The world swims slowly into focus, and a number of sensations gradually worm their way into my consciousness. I realize first that I'm warm and somewhat comfortable, except for the groggy haze and dull aches all over. I ponder that for an indeterminate amount of time before the smell hits me – a pleasant but rather sterile aroma – and it occurs to me that I must be in a hospital of some sort. I try to open my eyes, and the harsh white light confirms it. I blink away tears and try them again to no avail. Shortly after that, I realize that I'm groaning and somebody is speaking to me.

"William?" The voice is soft and familiar, but who is William?

"Who?" I ask. Or rather, I try to ask. It comes out as more of a hoarse, garbled whisper than an intelligible question. I try my eyes once more, and some blurry shapes coalesce through my pounding headache.

"William?" The woman tries again, this time standing up and leaning over me. I can see a fair-skinned oval face with a mass of brown hair dangling close to my face. I catch a whiff of it, and immediately the events of the past many months hit me, causing me to gasp with the weight of it. My mind sifts through the memories in no time at all, finally reaching the events of the Second Task.

I wet my lips and swallow painfully to try to coat my dry throat with saliva. "Hermione," I manage to croak out, just before the bushy tangle of brown hair attacks my face and a pair of arms slide between me and the bed.

"Oh William, we were so worried..." She sits up for a moment, and the details of her face resolve into familiar features. A surge of relief floods through me as her shining chocolate eyes search mine. "Do you...do you remember everything?"

"F-Fleur?"

She sags in relief, resting her head on my chest and whispering in reply. "Grindylows – an entire den of them. But she made it, William, she's fine. You did it...whatever you did...you did it." Then it hits me: Harry was attacked by some of them in canon, so this time Fleur got the full complement of them.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, causing me to cough. "Harry?"

"I'm here, Will," Harry says from my other side. "I'm fine, not even a scratch. I must say this is a pleasant change, not being the one holed up in here for days."

I let out a raspy chuckle that turns into a cough while Hermione scolds him quietly. "What...happened...after..." The words slowly grind out of my throat.

"Shh, easy, William," Hermione says softly, holding a finger over my mouth. "The healers took you and Fleur away, and Harry came back up with her sister at about the same time Cedric rescued Cho. He just used the Bubblehead Charm. Viktor did a partial self-transfiguration, though he admitted to me he tried to do a full-body one. He came up with Daphne just after time ran out."

"Tell him about right after he passed out," Harry suggests. I don't miss the amused tone, but apparently Hermione does.

"Well the first bystanders got to you right as you...er...started glowing. That was...well, it stopped them dead in their tracks." She seemed to shudder at the memory of it. "The healers reached you shortly after you passed out and collapsed on top of Fleur."

"I think you missed two important pieces of that story, Hermione." Harry with a grin.

This time she catches it, and swings an arm out to whack him while sending him a glare. "He has been in here for five days and all you can think about—"

"—is making him feel better! Here William, watch this." He holds a strategically-folded Daily Prophet open to show a black and white picture of me apparently on fire for the briefest of moments, then suddenly passing out right onto Fleur's chest. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I could have sworn the glow lasted longer than that. With the neck wounds closed and barely visible and the black and white picture showing very little evidence of blood, it looks like we're both just sleeping. Sleeping with my head on her chest.

My raspy laugh comes out again. "Damn...missed it..." Hermione's light slap to my chest causes another round of coughing.

"Geez, Hermione, he's been in here for five days and you're trying to keep him in here longer." Harry's smirk does not falter under Hermione's glare. "But more importantly, William, Hermione got there before the Healers. She rolled you off Fleur, checked your pulse, cast a Warming Charm on Fleur, and then began Muggle CPR on her. Neville says she was incredible!"

Hermione blushes. "I didn't know there was a spell that expels water from the lungs."

"Mouth-to-mouth?" I ask, then start coughing even harder when Hermione slaps my chest again.

"Hermione!" Harry says, laughing.

She looks at me with a horrified face, but before she can apologize, Madam Pomfrey interrupts. "Awake, Mr. Lerner? Very good. Off you go, you two. You may notify the others."

"Sorry, you prat," Hermione whispers and gives me one last squeeze. "We'll be back."

"See you in a bit," Harry says, squeezing my shoulder.

"Others?" I ask Madam Pomfrey once they've left.

"Yes, you've had quite the parade of visitors," she replies with a face that shows she is less than pleased about that. "How do you feel? No memory loss?"

"Sore all over, throat hurts," I croak out. "I remember everything, though."

"Very good." I almost laugh that it sounds like she is calling it very good that I'm sore all over and my throat hurts. "You are once again magically exhausted, Mr. Lerner." She says that as sternly as Professor McGonagall.

"Sorry," I say, appropriately chastised.

She takes a deep breath. "I would have preferred you left Ms. Delacour's treatment to us, but I suppose, under the circumstances, you may be forgiven this time."

"She okay?"

She frowns at me. "She is. I wish you would have brought her straight to us, though."

"Sorry, no good on a broom...had to go fast. She looked...like she was..."

"It's okay, Mr. Lerner," she says in a softer voice. "It turned out okay." She pats my arm for a moment, then goes back to her usual business-like manner. "Now that you're awake, you'll need to take these two potions: one for the pain and one for nutrition. We'll try a light meal in a bit, but I think you'll be interrupted before too long."

The nutrition one actually tastes decent, but as I'm choking down the painkiller potion, a firm knock at the door sounds out just a moment before it is opened to reveal Harry leading the Delacour family in. The two younger Delacours are in the powder-blue robes of Beauxbatons, even though I'm fairly certain that Gabrielle is too young to attend. Their mother is wearing a similar color, slightly lighter, perhaps, but hers is a slim dress that somehow shows very little skin and yet leaves little of her figure to the imagination.

My imagination probably wouldn't have been as good as the real thing anyway. She's got the same perfect hair and regal bearing, but her face is narrower and more delicate than Fleur's, and completely free of wrinkles and blemishes.

The patriarch enters last, wearing impeccably tailored navy blue – almost black dress robes. I'm actually surprised to see long, light brown hair falling in lazy waves to his shoulders. From seeing his daughters I would have expected blonde. His deep blue eyes match those of his wife and daughters quite well, though.

"_Merci_, 'Arry," Fleur says, turning to the blushing Gryffindor as her parents walk straight to my bedside.

"_Monsieur_ Lerner," Mrs. Delacour says, leaning over and kissing me on both cheeks. "I cannot thank you enough for what you did for my daughter." My cheeks become quite heated, and not just because of the kiss, either. This woman might have her half-Veela aura completely under control, but that doesn't mean she's not an astonishingly beautiful creature.

"I...uh..."

"_Oui_, _Monsieur_," Mr. Delacour says, shaking my hand, "both you and M_._ Potter have done the Delacour family a great service. It is a debt we can never repay."

"I-I'm sure anyone would have done the same," I say weakly, but at least my voice is becoming a little easier to use.

Fleur's mother smiles kindly. "_Non_, _monsieur_, you and M. Potter moved to save my daughter without a second thought."

"Even before me," her father says, and I can see he's angry at himself for that. "That was quick thinking on your part, and very impressive magic."

"Thank you," I say, blushing again at the praise. I do wonder exactly why nobody else had apparently moved to save her. Did they really not have some contingency plan for potential injuries? I know in the Third Task they watch for red sparks, but...

Mr. Delacour says something to Fleur in French, startling her and turning her cheeks pink as she saunters her way over. Idly I think that must be the only way she knows how to walk.

"I'm sorry about the Ball," I blurt out before she can get a word in.

Her eyes widen and her cheeks go from pink to red as her eyes flicker toward her parents. "_Non_, _monsieur_, it _iz_ I who must apologize, and thank you for saving me. After our previous encounters, I would not 'ave expected you to do such a thing."

Her mother says something in French, which embarrasses Fleur further and she gives a short reply. I wave it off with a shaky arm. "We started off on the wrong foot is all, and that was my fault," I say. My throat still hurts, but it's getting easier to speak. "As for that, well, Harry is the one with the 'saving people' thing, I think he just rubbed off on me a bit."

Harry blushes under the sudden attention, and then Fleur looks back to me. "M. Lerner..."

"I would like it if you would call me William," I say, then more quietly, "and if we could be friends."

She gives me a small smile and sits on the side of my bed. I try not to react to the fact that my hand is touching a very pleasantly firm part of her body. "I would like _zat_ as well, William, and I insist you call me Fleur. _Zey_ told me what you did, and that you 'ave been unconscious in here since. I owe you my life." She leans over and gives me a hug and a kiss on both cheeks – both alarmingly close to my lips – sending the heat back to my cheeks. Just like with her mother, I realize I feel very little pull from her Veela aura.

"My daughter owes you a Life Debt, M. Lerner, and I would do my part in helping her discharge it," Mr. Delacour says formally. "If there is anything I can do for you, I insist you allow me to do so."

I choke on my saliva and start coughing; I had not realized the whole Life Debt thing was actually a real thing in canon. I thought that was just in fanfiction, taken from Star Wars or something. "Mr. Delacour, I'm sure that's not..." I trail off, then realize how stupid it would be to throw away an opportunity like this. "...Actually, I would like it if we could have a private discussion, you and I, plus Harry and Hermione. I need a week or so to prepare for it."

He looks surprised by and slightly suspicious of this request, but he quickly schools his expression back to a smile. "Of course, M. Lerner. Would you like Fleur to accompany me?"

I consider that. She will be indisposed during the Third Task, although after she is rescued she might be available. If the plan still percolating in my head goes forward, it could be quite useful to have someone around that owes me a Life Debt. But I quickly dismiss that idea and shake my head. "No, that will not be necessary."

Both Fleur and her father frown and look like they want to say something. I wait a few moments, but apparently no explanation is forthcoming.

"What is it?"

"Well, it would be best...for the Debt...if she did," her father explains uncertainly.

I look at Harry, but he only shrugs. "What does the Debt entail, anyway?" They both look very uncomfortable at this, so I switch tactics. "Scratch that. Harry, can the four of us have some privacy? No offense, Mrs. and Ms. Delacour the younger."

"_Muffliato_," Harry says, making Fleur and her father jump since they hadn't notice Harry draw his wand, and then both of them look around to determine the source of the buzzing.

"Thanks," I say, nodding to him then turning to the Delacours and observe them for a moment. "If we have secrets that can't get out or we will be in grave danger, is keeping those secrets within the purview of the Life Debt?"

They both look frightened now, and Mr. Delacour gives a nod. "It is," he says slowly and uncertainly. I have to wonder at that, because now that I know Life Debts actually exist, didn't Snape owe James Potter a Life Debt? But then again, I remember reading that Snape did not realize that the prophecy referred to the Potters until after he had shared the information. Damn it, which pieces of this are actually canon?

"Don't worry, Mr. Delacour," Harry says comfortingly. That emotion doesn't carry too well with my voice at the moment. "Unless I miss my guess, your family is not too fond of Voldemort, right?"

A flinch at the name is followed by a tinge of anger. "But of course not!" Fleur says heatedly, cursing in French both before and after.

Harry smiles. "Then, unless you want to help that creature, our goals align quite nicely."

"What do you mean, _zat _creature? He is dead, _non_?" Fleur asks.

Harry holds up his hands. "No more talk right now, William just wanted to make sure you will keep our secrets."

"We will," Fleur says immediately.

"My wife would as well," her father says. "She feels as much indebted to you as I am, and she has as much a reason to dislike that man's – or creature's, as you say – views as anybody."

"A half-Veela would, at that," I say with a smile.

"How did you know that?" Fleur asks, taken aback.

Harry snorts. "Good luck with that question," he mutters to himself, then, louder, "I think she'll be fine to join us, William, but _not_ Gabrielle."

"No," the three of us say at the same time, with varying degrees of vehemence.

"Very good," Harry says, canceling the privacy charm. Fleur and her father look around as the buzzing lifts.

"Sorry, Mrs. Delacour, Gabrielle," Harry says. "We're finished now."

"The two of you know very interesting magic for such young students, M. Potter," the mother says. Her usually sultry voice is tight, probably with concern and suspicion.

"Apolline, Mssrs. Lerner and Potter have requested that you join Fleur and I for our discussion," the father says quickly. I smile at his little white lie to help smooth over any insult she may have taken. She blinks in surprise, then nods uncertainly while her husband continues speaking. "When and where shall we meet?"

Harry clears his throat. "We have a Hogsmeade weekend coming up this Saturday."

Mr. Delacour nods. "That would allow Apolline and I to leave the grounds and avoid the trouble of getting back in. Is that enough time for you to prepare?"

I nod and smile in what I hope is a reassuring way. "That should be fine."

"I would suggest the Three Broomsticks," Harry says. "We can have lunch at noon and then adjourn to a private room."

Mrs. Delacour raises an eyebrow at the mention of a private room, but Fleur's father nods. A polite knock at the door expedites our goodbyes. "Very well, M. Potter, M. Lerner. This has been a most...unexpected experience." He shakes my hand and gestures Gabrielle over. The door opens just as I receive her hug and quick pecks on the cheek. Fleur and then her mother follow with more forceful hugs and kisses, all of which are repeated with Harry, though he gets a much better hug and kisses from Gabrielle than I do. I smile at how cute it is...another poor girl rescued by and enamored with the Boy-Who-Lived.

The newcomers, Hermione in front with Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall behind her, wait patiently to the side of the exit. Both Hermione's and Professor McGonagall's lips are drawn into an almost identical thin line as they watch the exchange of kisses, which makes me have to stifle a chuckle. Dumbledore simply smiles, blue eyes twinkling as he watches us over his half-moon spectacles.

The Delacours exchange quick greetings with the newcomers as they pass, and I note the Delacours are quite warm toward Hermione as well. "I'm pleased to find you in good spirits, Mr. Lerner," Dumbledore says. "I must say you gave us quite a fright."

In a rare show of emotion, the Transfiguration professor sniffles. "I've been waiting for you to wake to share this, Mr. Lerner. I'm not one to show favoritism, but I have never been more proud of my Lions than I am of you three. Your actions showed the resourcefulness of Slytherins, the intelligence of Ravenclaws, and the loyalty of Hufflepuffs, but I must admit I am most pleased that the courage of Gryffindors won out at the Sorting. Frankly, House Points are not even close to being a suitable reward for any of you."

"Be that as it may, I still reward Gryffindor one hundred points each for your actions," Professor Dumbledore says. Hermione's knees buckle and Harry catches her. "Further, all three of you shall receive a Special Award for Services to the School. Harry, I don't believe anyone has ever received two such awards by their Fourth Year, congratulations. Lastly, upon their request I have assisted the Delacours with nominating you, Harry, and you, William, for an Order of Merlin, Third Class with the British Ministry, and a _Chevalier d'Orleans_ with the French Ministry. Of course, those will be dependent upon approval by those governing bodies."

I'm completely floored. "A Knight of Orleans?" I ask. I think my voice would be hoarse even without the five days of unconsciousness preceding this one. Also, thank you, video games, for preparing me for this moment by providing me the knowledge of what _chevalier_ means. Somehow I doubt that we'll receive such an honor just for saving their daughter, but...

"Indeed, Mr. Lerner," Dumbledore says, glancing at Hermione, but she looks too shell-shocked to say anything. "Since Ms. Granger is otherwise occupied, I will provide a bit of background. Obviously this honor is similar to the British Order of Merlin. The French magical government renamed it over five centuries ago when the third of five _Regius Eques _was awarded to Joan of Arc. Among the Muggles she was nicknamed _La Pucelle d'Orleans_ – the Maid of Orleans – but her magical title is _Grand-Croix d'Orleans_. – the Grand Cross of Orleans. Think of it as an Order of Merlin, First Class, but even higher. The former names were _Regius Eques Karolingi_ – Carolingian Royal Knight, and before that, _Regius Eques Merovingi_ – Merovingian Royal Knight. Merovech was the only one of the latter, and Charlemagne was awarded the former. Legend says it was Charlemagne who ordered Beauxbatons to be built, but it wasn't until his last descendants, Odo the Insane and his sister Adelaide, that it was built and the French magical realm began to separate from the Muggle."

"Odo the Insane?" Harry asks.

"The first headmaster of Beauxbatons," Hermione says immediately.

Dumbledore smiles. "Yes, and he was quite a character, supposedly. Olympe tells me that his portrait claims he came up with the epithet himself. His sister remained on the Muggle side to assist with the separation until her slowed aging become too apparent, after which she finally left for the magical world."

"But why wasn't he made a Royal Knight?" Hermione asks. "Surely being such a key figure in the establishment of the magical realm deserved that, even if the Carolingian Dynasty was ended and Capetian Kings were in power by then?"

Dumbledore eyes twinkle at Hermione's show of knowledge. "You've answered your own question. I suppose they could have awarded it posthumously, but unlike England they originally cut themselves off completely from the Muggle government. It wasn't until Joan of Arc left Beauxbatons early to offer her services to the crown that their relationship was reestablished. In France the Muggle government was the only one able to bestow the Royal Knighthood, despite the fact that it is a magical award. In any event, you must excuse this old man for rambling...it is not often I get to teach anymore. Suffice it to say you three have been nominated for a great honor."

"Which honor do you have, sir?" I ask.

Dumbledore smiles genially. "I am _Commandeur d'Orleans_ for my part in defeating Grindelwald. It is the highest magical honor for a foreigner, though there are two levels above that. The current French Minister is a _Grand Officier_, the fourth level, and Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel were both awarded the final two _Grand Croix_ after many great deeds over the years, including mentoring Joan of Arc herself. I am a third level, by the way. Mme. Maxine and Fleur's maternal grandfather are both _Officier_, the second level, for their accomplishments integrating half-giants and Veela, respectively, into French magical society. Guillaume and Apolline Delacour are both _Chevalier _from Voldemort's first rise, so you can imagine what high expectations they all have for their daughter."

"You are rambling again, Albus," Professor McGonagall says lightly.

"Oh dear, my sincerest apologies! I had not planned on the French magical history lesson."

"It's quite alright, Professor," Hermione says quickly, getting a laugh from Harry and I.

"If you would hide some of the relevant books from the library, we'd appreciate not losing Hermione to it for the next week or two," Harry teases.

Hermione mock glares at him, and I laugh. We're both going to get it later.

"Actually, Mr. Lerner, I wanted to speak with you about the magic you performed at the Second Task," the headmaster says, maintaining his jovial tone. "It seems you've been holding out on us."

All my feelings of mirth end abruptly.

"You aren't in trouble, Mr. Lerner," Professor McGonagall says quickly upon seeing my face.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agrees. "Whether you realize it or not, what you did for Ms. Delacour shows you have some ability with wandless magic."

My mouth drops open in shock. He didn't see all the wandless levitation! Maybe this isn't as bad as I thought...

The headmaster chuckles. "Yes, it's a skill normally limited to very powerful wizards and witches, so you understand how unusual it is for you to apparently have such a natural grasp of it."

"I...but I don't even know how I did it," I say. As far as the glowing part went, that is an entirely true statement. "I just felt so...I don't know...and then I started glowing..."

"It's okay, my boy, I would not have expected you to do that consciously," Dumbledore says. "In fact I would not be surprised if you can not do it intentionally for several more years, even with training. A few witnesses claimed to have seen you performing wandless magic earlier, but obviously, from your reaction, we were right to dismiss these reports." I start coughing then, hoping to cover the act of my blood draining out of my face. How could I have been so stupid? "I have taken the liberty of redirecting your owls while you were unconscious, and I can continue to do that if you'd like. You have received quite a bit of attention this past week."

I grimace at that. "I would appreciate it if you continued doing that...I'd prefer to avoid the attention at the moment."

He smiles and nods. "Very well, Mr. Lerner, I will do so until you change your mind. Returning to our previous topic, I am not surprised to learn you did not consciously use wandless magic...even powerful wizards usually only manage a few wandless spells: Summoning, Banishing, and a few others. The rest are generally more powerful with a wand."

"And it clearly drained you of your magic very quickly," Professor McGonagall adds. "I would not recommend trying at all until your Seventh Year, let alone training in it."

I nod in extreme relief that I apparently dodged a bullet. "Believe me, magical exhaustion is not something I have enjoyed experiencing."

"Very good, Mr. Lerner," the deputy headmistress says with a firm nod. "I believe we've monopolized enough of your time by now; there are several more students waiting to see you. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger. I hope to see you in Transfiguration on Thursday, Mr. Lerner." With that, Professor McGonagall sweeps out of the room, with a loud "you may enter," to whomever is waiting outside.

The headmaster chuckles. "It seems that is my cue as well. Good day, and may I say again, congratulations, all three of you."

After he pats Harry on the shoulder and turns to leave he is nearly bowled over by Astoria, who is followed by Daphne and Tracey. The youngest Greengrass, face lit up with happy violet eyes and a wide smile, bounds up on to the bed for a hug. "Will!"

"Hey, Stori," I say, smiling back. She lays her head back down on my chest and makes herself comfortable.

"You just had to go and save the princess, didn't you?" Daphne says crossly with her arms folded. The slight curls at her edges of her lips ruin the stern facade.

I let out a raspy chuckle. "You didn't think I'd pass up an opportunity for hugs and kisses from the sixth or seventh prettiest girl in the school, did you?" That gets a laugh from Harry, a giggle from Astoria, and groans from the rest. "Hey, I'm just working my way down the line. It's a good thing Harry's here or else I would think I've died and gone to Elysium."

"Hey!"

"No offense, Harry," I say, "but seriously, where's Colin and his camera when you need them?"

"Only you could try to flirt with four girls at the same time, William," Daphne says, shaking her head and smiling. Apparently she has given up on pretending to be annoyed. "It seems your personality is back to normal, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry I missed you getting rescued, Daph."

She snorts. "After you saved the princess, hardly anybody cared about the rest of us. My father said half the reporters left as soon as they took the two of you away, and the other half were too busy interrogating everybody about you to notice us."

"I didn't tell them anything about your magic," Astoria says softly. "Father said not to." I sag in relief at that, thanking my lucky stars for Mr. Greengrass's foresight.

"My parents send their regards, by the way," Daphne continues. "They stayed in Hogsmeade an extra two days hoping to speak with you again, but they had to leave."

Tracey speaks up for the first time. "It's a good thing you were gone by then, anyway, William. Otherwise a picture of you and Daphne would have it into the—"

"Shh!" Hermione says too late. Tracey turns red and the others look decidedly uncomfortable.

"What?" I ask finally, after nobody elaborates.

"You had quite a spread in Teen Witch Weekly," Harry – clearly the bravest of the five – says slowly, "carrying Astoria on your shoulders, kissing her mother's hand, chatting with her father, hugging Hermione, doing something to her hair, and then rescuing Fleur."

I blink. Everybody else seems to hold their breath. "Wow," I say finally. "Wow, now I wish I _would_ have gotten a picture with you, Daph. And Luna, too."

"William!" Three hands smack me lightly at the same time.

Harry laughs. "You really ought to stop doing that if you want to get out of here by Saturday, Will."

"Ah, but the love-taps of these angels are my ambrosia," I say, reaching up to run my hands through Astoria's raven-black hair.

"I thought hugs and kisses were?" Hermione asks with a raised eyebrow.

"My nectar," I say with a smile, lifting my head with some effort to plant a kiss atop Astoria's head.

"At this rate you'll be on your feet in no time," Daphne says, slapping me on the arm again. "Quit kissing my sister."

"Jealous, Daph?" Astoria asks with a smirk.

Hermione gasps and Daphne's mouth drops open, then she mock glares and jabs her knuckles into Astoria's sides, causing her little sister to stifle a scream and jerk while laying on top of me, laughing. I yelp when I take a knee to the inner thigh. "Ow! Watch your knees! Watch your knees! That's not a love-tap!"

Tracey giggles at their antics. "It's a good thing Blaise isn't here, he would be scowling so hard his face would get stuck like that."

Daphne thankfully calls off the assault, and I let out a deep breath in relief. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Oh, Madam Pomfrey said you may only have five visitors at a time," Hermione says.

"We had to fight Ron, Neville, and Luna to come in first; Blaise is waiting outside with them," Astoria says, now sitting up on the side of the bed opposite Daphne.

Tracey snorts. "You should have seen the battle of puppy-dog eyes between Astoria and Luna. The only reason we won is because Ron and Neville were scared away by it. Even Blaise looked like he would have given them anything they wanted."

I cough out laughter at the thought of it. "I can imagine. I wish Colin could have gotten a picture of that, too."

Daphne's smile fades. "Speaking of pictures, what did you do, William? What was that light in the picture of you?"

I glance around at the others. "I don't know. I could feel myself nearing magical exhaustion, and I was so frustrated because I wasn't making progress. And then it was like...something snapped. It hurt...it hurt like hell, I remember that. I remember the glow, but my vision failed shortly after that..."

After a few moments I realize I had trailed off, thinking about the differences between how it felt and how it looked in the picture. I look up to find troubled faces on Harry, Hermione, and Daphne, while Tracey and Astoria looked awed. "Why did you do that...for her?" Astoria asks. "I mean, I could understand Hermione or Daphne, but why her?" Daphne shoots a glare at her sister while Hermione blushes, but Astoria ignores them and drops her gaze. "You could have died."

I grimace because I can't answer that truthfully. Redirection time. "I would have done it for you, too, Stori. You, too, Tracey, and Harry, and all the people waiting outside." I smile what I hope is a friendly smile. "Well, maybe not Mr. Zabini. But don't you remember? I'm a Gryffindor, we do stupid things like that all the time."

Tracey snorts, but Daphne isn't fooled. "You're dodging the question."

"He does that when he has something to hide," Hermione adds.

I shrug. "I think maybe it's like I told the Delacours. Harry has this 'saving people' thing, and he's rubbed off on me."

"Maybe it isn't," Daphne says immediately, getting a nod from Hermione.

"Remind me to never let the two of you corner me, ever," I say with a smile. They do not find this amusing. I sigh. "Fine, the truth is, I would have felt responsible if she had...not made it." I look directly into Daphne's eyes while I say that.

"That's preposterous!" Hermione exclaims.

"But true," Daphne says, letting out a breath and shaking her head. "Perhaps I've given you too much credit, William. That is really stupid."

I give her a small smile. "Perhaps, but then, if I had the power to save her and didn't do it, how would I feel then?" Then I look at Hermione, and I'm wondering if I haven't fooled her. My eyes plead with her to drop it, and thankfully she does.

"But you could have died, damn you!" My other four visitors turn to stare open-mouthed at Daphne's outburst.

"I'm sorry, Daph," I say quietly. "I've hit magical exhaustion twice before, so I thought I knew my absolute limit...I wasn't expecting the light show."

"You've done that before?" Astoria asks with wide eyes.

"Um, just the magical exhaustion part, not the other thing," I say uncomfortably.

"What were you doing that you got to that point?" Daphne asks tightly.

"Training," I say with a small smile as I glance toward Hermione.

Hermione snorts. "Being stupid is more like it."

I smile at her. "What can I say, it's a gift."

"For you, maybe," Daphne says, crossing her arms. "More like a curse for the rest of us."

I smile at her but she looks away. After a few moments Astoria pats my arm firmly. "We better let Luna have her turn at you. You need your ambrosia."

"And my nectar," I say, holding my arms out for another hug. Astoria quickly complies, giving me a kiss on the cheek and a firm hug before she stands up and looks at her older sister expectantly.

"Don't you go thinking you're getting a kiss from me, Lerner," she says, poking me on the chest when she sits.

I start to answer, but Astoria beats me to it. "You do want him to get better, don't you, Daph?"

She scoffs but doesn't reply, choosing instead to simply lean over and put her head on my chest, and slipping an arm between my arm and my side to give me a little squeeze. I take the opportunity to kiss the top of her head, which earns me a light slap on the chest. "I didn't say you could do that," she says without conviction.

"Sorry," I say with an equal lack of conviction.

"You are not allowed to do something like this – getting knocked out for five days – again," she says, poking me in the chest once more before standing up.

I hold up my right hand. "I promise I won't do it again intentionally unless I ask you and/or Hermione first."

She narrows her eyes at me, suspicious of the wording, but doesn't challenge it. "I'll hold you to that," she says, then turns and walks toward the door, taking hold of Astoria's arm on the way.

Tracey leans over to give me a quick hug and tells me to get better before scurrying after the sisters.

"Tough luck, only getting one kiss out of the three of them," Harry says with an amused expression. "Should have said something nicer to Daphne, I bet she would have given you one."

Hermione whacks him on the shoulder. "Prat." Hermione turns her gaze on me with a thoughtful expression, then wraps her arms around herself and looks down. "She cares for you, William...maybe as much as I do, even," she says softly. "If it wasn't obvious before, it is now."

I take a deep breath and shrug. "We are close friends, so I care for her quite a bit, too," I say. "But as far as—"

"I know, you...you don't have to say it again," she says quickly.

I sigh heavily into the silence. "It's painful to have a choice taken away from you," I say softly, "whether you were considering it in the first place or not."

Harry and Hermione both understand immediately and study the floor with pained expressions. Just as I look to the door to wonder what's taking so long, the door swings open and Neville lets Luna and Ron through before letting the door close behind him.

Without preamble, Luna climbs on the bed, plants a solid kiss on my cheek, and snuggles into my chest facing Harry and Hermione. "Hello, William, Harry, Hermione. Is this right?"

It's so unexpected, so _Luna_, that I laugh despite the painful subject we had been discussing just a moment earlier. Harry joins in.

Hermione smiles, and shakes her head. "I suppose Astoria had a chat with you before you came in?"

"Yes."

"Figures," the bushy-haired Gryffindor says lightly, burying the sadness of the previous moment.

"Well, Luna," I say, "this is perfect, thank you."

"You're welcome," she says, wriggling a bit to make herself comfortable after my laughter dislodged her from her initial position. I think to myself that it would be great if she wouldn't do that.

"Bloody hell, mate, that was some wicked magic," Ron says, grinning ear-to-ear. "It reminded me of that thing you did at the beginning of the year that Hermione hated you for."

"I did not hate him for it, Ronald," Hermione says, reverting a bit to her old bossy voice.

"What are they talking about, William?" Luna's mellifluous voice vibrates my ribcage.

"It's a fake ritual spell I invented," I explain, "and the first time I used it was the second time I was knocked out by magical exhaustion. Maybe I'll show it to you sometime."

"I am not going to fall for that," Hermione says smugly. "You already agreed not to do it again."

"I agreed not to do the last part, anyway," I counter. "I could always replace the bar of superheated plasma with _fiendfyre_."

"_William_! _Don't you even think about it_!" Hermione pokes me in the shoulder, causing both Harry and me to laugh at how easily she gets riled up. Predictably she does not appreciate our mirth, nor our subsequent back and forth banter.

* * *

A/N:

Bit of made up history for you. It kind of took on a life of its own, not sure where that came from. Odo the Insane was a real person: the last male descendent of the Carolingian dynasty. His sister Adelaide was also real, and she was the last of the Carolingians. Canon does not say when Beauxbatons was founded nor who was the first headmaster, so obviously I took liberties with that.

As for the awards, just because I brought them up doesn't mean the three students should get them. I was struggling to figure out how exactly they would reward something like that, and Professor McGonagall's line expressing the inadequacy of mere House Points was my thought exactly. I had Mr. Delacour do the nominating because that seems like something a well-connected man might do for people that took such quick and decisive action to save his daughters. William and Harry's rescue of Fleur and Gabrielle, respectively, probably seem far more heroic to him than they do to others. I considered including Hermione as well just to avoid leaving her out, but that one was harder to justify.

Also, I'm not sure if this is obvious, but Mr. is the abbreviation for Mister, and M. is the abbreviation for _Monsieur_. Any French-speaking characters use the latter, while the rest use the former. Let me know if I mess that up anywhere.

R & R, C & C.


	22. Chapter 22: Meet the Parents, Part I

Disclaimer: JK Rowling once set me a cracked aquarium full of grindylows for joking too freely about someday owning the Harry Potter Universe.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Meet the Parents, Part I  
**

Surprisingly, Madam Pomfrey clears me to leave late the next day, with the restriction that I am not to use magic until I get a good night's sleep in my own bed. I can feel the roiling mass of magic there in the pit of my stomach, and, bizarrely, I feel like it's restless...waiting anxiously to be unleashed. I poke and prod and pull at it experimentally, not willing it to go anywhere, and nothing feels different. There is no sign or even hint of the glow or the whiteness that I sensed before. I assume it requires extreme circumstances to be able to access it, which is fine with me since I'd prefer not to pass out for a week.

The next day, walking with Harry and Hermione as usual, plenty of looks and whispers follow us, as per usual. "Maybe it's just because I've been knocked out for a few days, but it seems like you're getting more whispers than normal, Harry. Has it been like this all week?" I ask when we sit down for dinner next to Neville, Ron, and Luna.

Hermione raises an eyebrow at me while Harry chuckles. "No, it hasn't," he says.

I shrug. "So what happened with the points, anyway? How much of a lead do you have now?"

Harry grins. "I'm leading by eight, followed by Cedric, Viktor, and then Fleur."

"Only eight? You smoked everybody in the Second Task!"

He laughs. "What happened to not caring about the points, Will?"

"Oh yeah." I decide to ask the Twins what the odds are on Harry winning. I don't think I'll be using my galleons before then, and I could use some extra ones when the Third Task is done. That is, assuming everything goes well, of course. "So what's up with the Third Task? Did you get any info or hints for it?" I still need to play dumb after all.

"He just aced the Second Task and you already want to work on the next one?" Ron asks, looking at me like I've grown another head.

Hermione rolls her eyes. Some things never change.

"They told us we'd find out about the Third Task a month ahead of time," Harry says, "it's to be held on June 24th, the week before summer break. We actually get to relax for a couple months."

"Relax, Harry?" Hermione asks, raising her eyebrows, "I hope you don't mean..."

"Oh, we'll still run and practice and such," Harry says, cutting her off, "but at least we don't have to rush to learn something in particular."

"If you guys don't mind," I say slowly, then I lower my voice. "I think I've learned something about my magic that I want to test."

Hermione looks at me sharply. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

I hold my hands up in surrender. "Hey, I told you and Daphne that I wouldn't magically exhaust myself again without asking one of you first, and I meant it."

Neville and Luna look up from their quiet contemplation in surprise, as does Ron. They hadn't heard that part. "What if something like that happens again?" Luna asks.

I smile at her. "Obviously a situation like that is not intentional, and my oath doesn't apply to situations that I believe fall into the realm of unintentional magical exhaustion."

"You prat," Hermione says with an accusatory glare, "you thought of that ahead of time, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," I say, letting my smile fade. "I would do that again in a heartbeat to save any one of you if something like that happened, regardless of what I promised."

Luna smiles and lets her head rest against my arm, which I gently move around her to squeeze her against my side and kiss her on top of the head. Ron and Neville look embarrassed, but Harry nods grimly and Hermione blushes.

Ron clears his throat when nobody speaks for a few moments. "Um, what did you mean when you said you wanted to test something?"

I grin once again. "Don't worry, I'll show you guys in a bit."

"William..." Hermione warns.

"If you like, we can bring Daphne along, too, that way you can both beat the crap out of me if I break my promise," I offer. "I think she's earned the right to see the Room."

She purses her lips at me. "Fine."

I head over to the Slytherin table and end up inviting Tracey and Blaise, too, and then Astoria hops up as we're leaving, so she's invited as well. I get plenty of looks when I do this, which, even though the entire school must know about our friendship by now, I suppose is unsurprising since I don't think I've ever actually gone to speak her in the Great Hall before. With such a large group, Harry and Hermione head back to fetch the Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak while the rest of us head leisurely up to the seventh floor.

"So what were you going to show us, William?" Daphne asks when we've reached the top.

Tracey's face lights up as she recognizes where we are. "Are we going dancing again?"

"Not quite," I say with a smile. "Hermione said you should be here to help her make sure I don't go back on the promise I made you when I woke up."

She immediately drops back into Ice Queen mode when she figures out what promise I mean. "Lerner..." she warns.

Ron whistles. "Wow, she and Hermione both reacted the same way...I don't envy you, mate." Then he cowers, partially hiding behind Neville as the icy glare is turned onto him.

Astoria giggles and then dances away from her sister's attempt at a smack to attach herself to my side.

"It's okay, Daph, Hermione's just overreacting," I say, squeezing Astoria, "I just wanna try something."

Just then Harry turns the corner where the entrance usually is. "This way, everybody, quickly now," he says in a low voice.

The expected entrance grinds into existence and opens with seemingly no effort on Harry's part. We all quickly slip in to find Hermione waiting for us in a large dueling area, except for the sitting area with more couches and chairs than usual. Of course a pair of tall bookshelves against the wall complete the decor.

"This isn't what it looked like before!" Tracey sounds quite disappointed at that.

"It's not even the same shape," Daphne points out with her brows furrowed.

"Hermione redecorated a bit," I say with a smile.

The bushy-haired Gryffindor rolls her eyes and explains the Room to the surprised Slytherins, including the part about how I 'found' it. That gets rather suspicious looks from Daphne and Blaise.

"You said it yourself, I am well-informed," I say airily, breaking off from the group and walking purposefully across the dueling pit before spinning around to find all of them watching me. "Alright, Harry, hit me with the strongest Stunner you've got," I say.

"William, you told me to remind you never to get in a fight with Harry, remember?" Hermione says worriedly.

I laugh. "Thanks Hermione, but I meant an actual fight, this is just training."

"Are you sure, Will?" Harry asks quietly.

"Have you _seen_ Harry cast spells, mate?" Ron asks incredulously.

"Is he stronger than a normal Fourth Year?" Astoria asks.

"I saw Harry cast a corporeal Patronus that drove off dozens of dementors," Hermione says, turning toward the Slytherins and smiling, "and that was as a Third Year."

"Impossible," Blaise says evenly, crossing his arms as he breaks his silence for the time. Daphne and Tracey look disbelieving as well.

"It's true, but you don't have to believe me," Hermione says with a shrug. "Just wait and see."

"To answer your question, Ron: yes, actually, I stopped one of his Stunners with my shield earlier this year, though it brought me to my knees," I say, "I want to see if that's changed."

Ron and Neville gape openly at us. "Harry will be stronger, too," Luna points out.

I shrug. "Yeah, but I have a hunch."

Harry shifts uncomfortably. "Look, Will, I'm not sure—"

I whip my arm up toward their group and gather a swirling ball of sickly green light in my palm. "Do you need incentive again?" I ask with a grin.

"_Stupefy_!"

Damn, he's fast; I didn't even see him draw.

"_Stupefy_!" The twin voices of Daphne and Blaise follow soon after.

Oh shit.

As before, the green light quickly shifts to blue and expands into a shield plenty large enough to absorb the angry mass of red plunging toward me. I brace my right arm with my left, thinking that I need to work on optimally sizing my shield to avoid wasting magic. Harry's Stunner impacts my shield like a magical sledgehammer, followed swiftly by the not-insignificant kicks from the Slytherins. Once again I have to pour more magic into my shield until all three bursts of red dissipate in crackling arcs of energy, after which I quickly reel in the river of magic I'd been pushing out. I feel the same ache as I usually do when I use too much magic, but at least it's not enough to double me over or send to my knees this time. "I yield!"

"What was that about, Lerner?" Blaise growls, still holding his wand on me despite Hermione having jumped out in front of them with her arms out.

"Training," I say with a an attempt at a grin, though it's part grimace as well. "Harry, was that your strongest?"

Harry shrugs. "Maybe. I knew that wasn't a Killing Curse this time, though."

"I-it wasn't?" Neville asks. Just then I realize he has his wand pointed at me as well, and so does Ron. Luna just nods as if that was what she was expecting to hear, but I feel pretty bad that Astoria is hiding behind Daphne looking frightened and Tracey is trying to peer around Blaise, who is holding her behind him.

I laugh nervously as I walk back over to them. "Sorry about that, I forgot you didn't know about my fake Killing Curse. Thanks for holding back, by the way, that was why Harry shot the Stunner at me the first time."

"Bloody hell, William, that was scary," Ron says, shakily putting away his wand. "I'd appreciate it if you don't do that again."

"I don't know, Ronald," Luna says, tilting her head thoughtfully as she looks at me. "It would make for a nice distraction against someone who didn't know."

I beam at her. "Thanks, Luna, I think so, too. Also, Ron, I'm pretty sure I can't cast the Killing Curse at all, let alone at you guys."

"You're still standing," Hermione says in surprise, as if she just noticed.

"Sorry to disappoint you," I say with a grin.

She snorts and ignores that. "Oh, hush. How do you feel?"

I scratch my head as I poke and prod at my magic. "I could probably take the same three Stunners again, but I wouldn't be standing afterward, if I would be conscious at all." I look over at Daphne, who is still glaring at me, but at least she had lowered her wand. My heart drops a little at the sight of Astoria still hiding from me. "I'm sorry, Daph, you know I'd never put Stori in danger like that."

"Do I?" she asks hotly.

Her sister breaks away and throws her arms around me. "I-I know you wouldn't, Will, but that light...you scared me."

I crumple a little at the hurt in her voice and hug her tightly. "I'm sorry, honey," I whisper, kissing her on the top of her head and rubbing her back.

"You should tell her, William," Luna says dreamily. "You should tell her why you could not have possibly used the Killing Curse on us."

My hand freezes in the process of rubbing her back. "Um, my wandless magic works a little different than you're used to..."

Luna smiles. "Not that, silly. The real reason."

Damn it, not her too! Can't a guy just lie to save his own skin once in a while? "Um, I don't think that's such a good idea at the moment, Luna," I say, deliberately not looking at Daphne.

"Why not?" Luna asks, tilting her head in confusion. "Harry, Hermione, and I all know and that's why we weren't afraid. It is a really nice thing to know."

"Know _what_, Lerner?" Daphne asks. I'm still not looking at her, but I can practically feel her arms cross in front of her and her eyes trying to glare a hole in my head. I get the distinct impression she knows exactly what.

I don't say anything, instead frantically searching for an out.

Luna takes care of that for me, though. "That he loves Astoria, of course," she says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh, damn. I stiffen and squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact, but Luna's not done trying to get me killed.

"Yes, Daphne, he loves you, too, you know," she adds matter-of-factly. "That's why it couldn't have been the Killing Curse. It can't be used on somebody you love."

My life flashes before my eyes, and I wonder just how I got here, and how I got to this point...

"Is that true, Will?" Astoria says, voice muffled in our embrace.

"Um," I say intelligently. My eyes are still closed as I await my death at the hand of an undoubtedly furious raven-haired beauty.

"We are his family," Daphne says in a small voice.

"What?" I ask suddenly, opening my eyes incredulously. I realize by the other now-visible faces that I'm not the only one flabbergasted by that statement, and I realize I wasn't the only one who asked that question. Luna must be the only one who isn't surprised, because she's humming happily.

Daphne turns her body sideways and tilts her head up to the ceiling. "That's what you told father, isn't it? He asked if your family was going to see you over the holiday, and you said...you said your friends are your family." She lets out a breath that almost sounds like a start of a chuckle. She turns her head toward me and opens her ice-blue eyes, which are far softer than I expected. "You were telling the truth...you meant every word."

I feel a lump in my throat that grows as Hermione sniffles behind me and then Astoria sniffles against my chest. Then Hermione's arms wrap around me and Astoria, followed soon after by Harry clapping my shoulder and squeezing.

"Oh! C'mon Neville," Luna says happily. I turn my head back to her and almost laugh, if I could trust myself to not let out a sob the second I open my mouth, as she drags Neville over. She squeezes herself under my arm next to Astoria, on the other side from Hermione.

Blaise scoffs and walks toward the sitting area, followed soon after by a rather uncomfortable Ron who mumbles something inaudible before he goes.

Astoria turns and reaches an arm out to her sister.

Daphne snorts and turns her head away, but makes no move to follow Blaise. Tracey is still standing near Daphne, watching us with a smile. Hermione drops the hug and nudges me toward the elder Greengrass sister. Luna gives me one last squeeze before she follows suit, and in a moment I'm free to walk slowly toward Daphne.

"I guess I have a bit of Seer blood in me after all," I say uncertainly, hoping she isn't going to change her mind and _reducto_ me into a thousand pieces. "What was it you said when we first met? I think it was something like, 'you will not be speaking to me like that,' wasn't it?"

She chuckles. "It was, and you said 'of course not, because I don't love you.'"

"Yet," I finish for her.

"You are still just as ridiculous now as you were then, you know that?"

"If it helps, I didn't plan for it to turn out like this," I say, opening myself for a hug if she wants to take the last step.

She shakes her head and smiles, then steps into the hug, wrapping her arms around my chest in the most natural hug she's ever given me. "You must have forgotten that I no longer believe you when you claim to wing it. Who else but you could have turned half a room trying to hex you into a group hug?"

I laugh at that. "A one time thing, I'm sure."

She shakes her head. "It's not. By all rights we shouldn't even be friends, let alone...be this close." She pauses a moment, and I can't help but wonder what she was going to say. "Looking back, I still can't believe you did all this."

Suddenly we're wrapped in Astoria's arms, causing Daphne to stiffen briefly before she sees her sister.

"What are you doing?" Daphne asks, not unkindly.

"You're hogging the hugs," her younger sister says, "and you wouldn't join us over there so I came to you. I love you, too, you know, Daph."

"Stori..."

Tracey comes over and gives us a quick squeeze as well. "I'm glad to see you so happy, Daph. These might be Gryffindors, but I like them better than our so-called friends in Slytherin."

Our hug breaks up soon after, but nobody is sure what to say at the moment.

"How do you feel, William?" Hermione finally asks.

"Warm and cozy and loved!" I gush.

Daphne pretends to gag, and most of the others laugh at her reaction.

I laugh along with them. "I still need a while to get back to full power, but why don't you guys practice? Personally I think you should teach Stori and Luna the Stunner if they don't already know it, then see how many Harry's Shield can take." I smile evilly at him.

"Git," Harry says, but he's smiling as he says it. He does just that, helping Daphne and Hermione teach the two younger girls. Neville nervously asks if Harry can help him, too, and as Tracey, Blaise, and Ron come over to practice, I head over to the sitting area and smile as I realize I'm seeing flashes of the future DA, except with Slytherins included this time.

Luna gets it quickest, followed shortly after by Astoria. Neville gets it, but he can't seem to get any power behind it. I can't remember if it's in canon or in fanfiction, but...

"Neville," I say, "is that one of your relative's wands?"

He flushes with embarrassment. "It was my father's."

I nod. "I mean no disrespect to you or your father, but you might be having trouble because it's not a good match for you. I know that many wizards and witches match fairly well with family members' wands, but it doesn't mean anything bad if it doesn't."

Daphne trades with Astoria and they quickly find out that Astoria can hardly use her sister's, though Daphne does fairly well.

"Mine is maple and phoenix feather," Daphne explains, "which is the hardest core type to master, while Stori's is applewood and dragon heartstring. The latter is the least picky of the cores, so often others can pick it up and use it fairly easily."

Hermione nods. "If your father's wand has a unicorn hair at its core, those are always most loyal to its first master. They generally make quite poor secondhand wands."

"She's right, mate," Ron says. "Our first two years I was using my brother Charlie's old unicorn hair wand. My new one is still unicorn hair, but I'm the first one to own it. It's so much better."

Neville's shoulders slump. "I-I think that's what's in mine – or rather my father's."

"Don't worry about it, mate," Harry says, clapping the insecure boy on the shoulder. "We'll get you a new wand as soon as we can."

"By working with this one in the mean time, you'll see a massive improvement when you get one that matches," Hermione says.

The insecure boy's confidence is obviously bolstered by this, and he practices the Stunner several more times with determination.

"You know, you three should think about tutoring people in defense," I say.

"You two should," Daphne says to Harry and Hermione, the latter of whom blushes at the compliment. "I wouldn't have the patience."

"I'm sure you'd be—" Harry begins to argue.

"No thanks, Potter," she says firmly.

I sit back in my chair and smile as the group continues to work. It's a bittersweet smile, though...seeing the normal Hogwarts students together, teaching each other, having fun, laughing...it reinforces the notion that I don't belong here. Stori and Luna team up on Harry, showing him their twin puppy dog eye attack asking him to show them the Shield Charm. Hermione steps a blushing Ron through the wand movements of both, since he isn't getting as much energy behind them as he should be. Blaise and Daphne take turns blasting each other's Shields with Stunners as Tracey and Neville watch closely.

Taking my eyes off the group in favor of leaning my head back against the top of the chair and staring at the ceiling, I wonder what exactly my purpose is for being here, if there is one at all. After our experiment, Hermione had idly hypothesized that magic has some measure of sentience, so I wonder if magic itself brought me here. If so, am I doing what it wanted? I shake the thought away as both silly and unproductive. Surely I would have had gotten some sense of purpose, but I've always felt like I was on my own on that account. Besides, how would an incorporeal, only questionably sentient...presence, I guess...arrange for my matriculation at and transportation to Hogwarts?

A hand on my shoulder startles me out of reverie. "You okay, William?" My head jerks up to find Hermione looking at me in concern, with most of the others looking my way as well. I think Hermione must have dashed over when she saw me lying bonelessly on the chair.

"Oh yeah," I say in what I hope is a chipper voice. "Sorry 'bout that...just thinking, is all." She lets out a relieved breath as I sit up and stretch, both physically and mentally. My magic isn't all the way recovered, but it's close enough. "Well, I'm feeling pretty good," I say, slapping my knees as I stand. "Who else is up for a game of Break Harry's Shield Over and Over Until He Learns to Make it Stronger?" I hold my hand out, palm up, let a ball of swirling red magic form above it, and shoot Harry an evil grin.

We quickly discover a smattering of facts. Firstly, it's way more fun when the target tries to dodge the incoming Stunners and only block the ones that are about to hit him. When I say more fun, I mean for everyone except the one dodging and Shielding.

Secondly, all of us who tried it so far – that is, Harry, Ron, Daphne, Blaise, and myself – are awful at it, though hopefully I'm going to end up getting a lot out of it once I can adequately control the size of my Shields. I can already make one with both hands, a feat which impresses the others...especially the Slytherins, who haven't seen exactly how much different my magic is. I plan on doing this exercise as much as possible up until the Third Task.

Thirdly, nobody can add magic to a shield like I can, so with my special brand of magic I can in fact block more Stunners than a single one of Harry's Shields. Of course, he can pretty much recast his Shield at will, indefinitely. The only way to beat his is to put enough magic behind the Stunner to break through it in one shot, which only I can do, but that's only by making myself quite uncomfortable in the process.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, at least one person needs to sit out from attacking shields to ready Cushioning Charms. Not just for the target, but also for the attackers that may hit each other when the target slips between them.

Blood Replenishing Potions still taste awful, by the way.

* * *

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Delacour, Mrs. Delacour," I say, shaking the hand of the former and kissing both cheeks of the latter. Greeting unnaturally gorgeous French women makes me happy.

"You are looking well, M. Lerner," Apolline says.

"Thank you, I feel much better."

Harry, Hermione, and Fleur greet the Delacours as well, then we sit down to lunch talking of inconsequential things. Well, mostly inconsequential...I have to suffer through uncomfortable questions about my family. Mr. Delacour diplomatically remarks upon the similarities between Harry and me, an observation which startles all three of us. It isn't long before the six of us retire to a private room for the real discussion.

I walk to the windows and push out a stream magic with the intention of locking them, which is verified with a flash of silvery light. I start to walk to the door after Mr. Delacour closes it and repeat the action, but it occurs to me that I should make sure both that it works and that I can actually undo it. I try to open the window but it holds fast, so I push out another stream of magic with the intention of unlocking it, which takes hold with a similarly silvery light. I verify I can open it, then I close it and repeat my action.

"What was that about, William?" Hermione asks when I turn to the door.

"Ah," my eyes flicker to the Delacours, two of whom are watching me curiously while the youngest of the three is watching me with her eyebrows raised, making my face heat a bit. "Just making sure."

"I got the door," Mr. Delacour says, waving his hand toward it.

Idly I wonder if he used a standard Locking Charm or something stronger, and if I did essentially the same thing. "Thanks," I say, nodding in his direction, "I was going to use the same Privacy Charm as before, unless you've got your own spells or wards?"

"How about both?"

"Sounds good."

Mr. and Mrs. Delacour glide around the room casting a couple spells I recognize, including "_cave inimicum_" which I believe is some sort of intruder alarm. I wonder how exactly the alarm actually works, if it will cross the Privacy Charm. When they're finished I go ahead and put up the standard one. It occurs to me that I could probably modify it if I focused on making it a one way bubble – allowing sound in but none out – but I should probably practice that first, considering our findings with nonstandard magic. Then it occurs to me that we made a rather stupid mistake...we should have tried casting a spell that wasn't so much like a normal spell. I think there's a good chance that the amount of magic a custom spell requires is inversely proportional to its similarity to a canon spell.

We all share glances, waiting for someone to start. Harry and Hermione seem to be looking at me, since I'm the one who asked the Delacours here, and said family follows the other two Hogwarts students' example. I take a deep breath. "Okay, I think you'll understand why in a moment, but I'd like to warn you that both the information we are going to share and the information I'm going to ask for are dangerous, and it would be okay if you want to wait for a different chance to square the debt."

Mr. Delacour frowns. "Will there be an opportunity for my daughter to discharge the debt if we are only sharing information?"

I shrug. "Actually, I have no idea what a life debt entails, nor how to make sure one is no longer active. If you obtain the information we need, I would consider it a fair trade."

His frown deepens. "How is that a fair trade?"

"Because that information might directly save the life of one of the people within this room," I say slowly, "and by extension thousands of lives without."

The three Delacours pale at that.

"M. Delacour, Mme. Delacour," I begin, both using the French honorifics and pausing for effect, "what do you know about Horcruxes?"

* * *

The night after meeting with the Delacours, Harry shakes me awake. "Hey, mate, sorry to wake you, but I need to ask you something."

With a grunt I sit up, startled, then when I realize that it's just Harry I yawn and try to rub the sleep out of my eyes. "What's up, Harry?"

"Something's been bothering me since we spoke to Fleur's family today, and I finally figured it out..." His Killing Curse-green eyes peer at me nervously and suddenly I'm nervous, too. Suddenly I realize that we are already surrounded by a Privacy Charm. "Back during the Second Task, when you came to get Fleur, you told me to go get her sister."

Icy tendrils of dread grip my heart, and I hope it's dark enough that he can't see any reaction I may have given away. I seek the Void to calm myself.

"How did you know it was her sister down there?" I'm glad his voice isn't prodding or accusatory like Hermione's might be. He just seems curious, but I need to come up with a cover story, fast.

"Same way I know a lot of other things," I say honestly. I realize I can't claim to have spoken to them before the Second Task since Harry was there when they introduced themselves. "I knew she had a sister and I knew she wasn't too close with Roger Davies or any other guy. I will say I was somewhat surprised that Daphne was Krum's hostage, though. You'd think he'd have someone back in Bulgaria or something."

"Yeah, you'd think," Harry says softly. He doesn't speak for several seconds, but he makes no move to head back to bed. "You know, sometimes I think you know the future."

I manage to chuckle at that instead of choking on my own saliva. "I suppose Dumbledore would say something exceedingly clever about knowing the future by knowing the past."

Harry chuckles as well. "As crazy as it seems, though, it fits. The Horcruxes that even Dumbledore doesn't know about, you knowing that screeching was Mermish, you knowing that Fleur's sister was at the bottom...countless other things you've told or shown us this year. Your story of suddenly appearing with all this knowledge is already fantastic enough; knowing the future is just as believable."

"They do say 'truth is stranger than fiction,'" I admit.

"So," he says slowly, "you're not my son or anything, are you?"

I gasp playfully. "Are you saying you wouldn't be proud of me, dad?"

"Oh god, Hermione's not your mum, is she?"

We both laugh heartily at that. "That's gross, dude. Besides, you two are a bit on the short side, no offense. In reality, one of your other harem wives is a statuesque supermodel, and I obviously inherit her looks."

"That still means you snogged Aunt Hermione."

"I did nothing so barbaric," I argue, but inwardly I'm happy he can make a joke about it. "Besides, just think about your cousin Tonks."

"Who?"

"Oh, you don't know her yet, eh?" I grin widely and mischievously, since my exaggerated expression should be visible in the dim light. "She's a metamorphmagus, which means she can disguise herself like someone else. Imagine how much fun that could be in—"

"Hey! That's my cousin!"

"Oh you don't even know her," I say, waving the objection away, "plus, she could look like anyone you want, though she might not appreciate you asking her to look like Hermione one night and Daphne the next."

Despite the darkened room I can tell he's blushing furiously during his sudden coughing fit. "You should tell Seamus and Dean about that," he says once he's recovered, "they'd make it their life's mission to marry a metamorphmagus."

"I should tell Hermione, too," I say with a mischievous grin.

Harry laughs. "Sure, if you want to die a most painful death."

I laugh too. "Sure, until she finds out that you have a bit of the talent." As his laugh immediately drops into a gaping stare I laugh even harder. "Remember when Petunia cut your hair and it grew back?"

Once I calm down and he asks me seriously, I inform him I'm not really sure about that, but it would be good to speak to Tonks about it. I hope that I've given him enough to think about that he doesn't bring up his hypothesis about me knowing the future ever again.

* * *

It takes a few days, but eventually Fleur stops turning deathly pale every time she looks in our direction. Her parents had been only very slightly relieved that there was a chance to pay me back, given the information they were now attempting to help us locate. I remember reading a fanfiction novel that in which her mother approached the Veela Council and they found a way to remove the Horcrux, but nothing like that came up while we were speaking so I have no idea if there even is such an organization.

The rumor mill grows when Fleur comes to speak to Harry, Hermione, and I on occasion. She doesn't do it often, especially when Ron is around since he seems to have no resistance at all, but she takes advantage of our resistance to her aura when it's just Harry or me. Our morning runs become far less frequent – with the rigorous training in the Room of Requirement we only run on days with nice weather – but when she asks to join us for the next one, Hermione suggests inviting Cedric and Viktor as well. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall would find it most amusing and encouraging to look out and find several dozen people from all three schools and all four Hogwarts Houses jogging around the grounds. The run wasn't too comfortable to me, since I was up until late last night expending a significant chunk of my magic to shape and charge my newest set of hand-held shield runestones. But I think I made a decent showing despite that and the grueling pace set by Harry, Viktor, and Hermione. Many of the newcomers were wearing school robes and lagging quite a bit behind the regulars, and many girls gave up well before we stopped...probably since they couldn't catch Viktor or Cedric.

As we make our way back to the castle I find myself alone with my thoughts, the others having engaged in conversation either amongst themselves or with newcomers. I consider inviting some more people to train with us, but quickly dismiss the idea. I realize the Room of Requirement becomes pretty much common knowledge next year, in canon at least, but I really don't want to take the chance of anybody else taking Ravenclaw's diadem because of what I've changed. I have considered taking it sooner rather than later, but I have no way of getting it to...oh, Merlin's balls, I'm an idiot! With a quick glance at my surroundings, which I had been largely ignoring up until now, I spot the two marks speaking to Fleur, Viktor, Cedric, and Cho.

"Harry, Hermione," I say, throwing my arms over their shoulders. "We need to take care of something important, so I hope you haven't got your next couple of hours mapped out. Catch up, if you please. My apologies, Ms. Delacour, Mr. Krum, Mr. Diggory, Ms. Chang." Without waiting for their reply I jog back up to the castle.

As I attempt to walk leisurely around the seventh floor, I wonder what the Room would provide if I wasn't asking it for anything in particular. As I turn a corner to complete my fourth lap, I spot Harry leaning against the wall, looking out Luna's window. Hermione stands in the middle of the corridor, and I catch her shifting her weight back and forth before she takes a more rigid stance with her hands on her hips.

"What are you on about, William?" Hermione asks. "That was rude, you know."

"Sorry, Hermione, I'm a bit anxious to do something I realize I should have done a long time ago," I say as I continue charging right past her toward the corner with the moving tapestry.

"Wait, Will—" Hermione starts, but I cut her off.

"Are we clear, Harry?"

I faintly the hear the rasp of unfolding parchment, then, a moment later, "clear."

_I need the place where everything is hidden._

_I need the place where everything is hidden._

_I need the place where everything is hidden._

Upon opening the door and shuffling Harry and Hermione in, I immediately have to fight off the urge to sneeze at the thick layer of dust covering everything. The Room seems just as large as it was in the movie, which surprises me. I don't remember if they actually used broomsticks in the book, but seeing it now, it seems possible. As the door melts into the wall behind me, I feel rather overwhelmed with the search.

"What are we looking for, Will?" Harry asks.

"The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw," I say solemnly.

Hermione pales. "How do we find it?"

"It should be resting on a stone bust, so that should make it easier to find. Also, if you find a Vanishing Cabinet, we should go ahead and destroy it beyond any hope of repair. Or try to destroy it, anyway; I don't know if it's protected somehow."

"How do you know all this?" Hermione asks, more to herself, which I answer with a meaningful look. She huffs. "Okay, well, then why now?"

"I just realized I was being stupid about it," I say. "I was going to grab it just before we went to meet Sirius and Remus again, but we might as well send it to them as soon as possible so they can kill it with fire."

"They can't destroy it with—" Hermione begins, totally not getting the meme from fifteen years from now.

"I know, Hermione, it's just a saying...you know us Yanks and our bizarre sayings," I say. "I meant _fiendfyre_."

"But we can't exactly owl it, Will," Harry says uncertainly.

"I dunno," I say with a grin, "I think Hedwig could do it. Kidding, Hermione. Now, if only we knew somebody who can apparate from within Hogwarts, is able to keep hidden, and is intensely loyal to Harry..."

"Dobby!" Harry and Hermione say in unison.

A soft pop echoes through the cavernous room. "You called for Dobby, Harry Potter, sir?" His enormous eyes take in his surroundings. "Harry Potter has found the Come and Go Room," he says excitedly, but then his ears droop. "There is dangerous things here...Harry Potter and his friends should not be here, sir."

"There _is_ something in this room that is very dangerous, and I was hoping you could take it to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin for me," Harry says, kneeling in front of the tiny creature and placing a hand on his shoulder. "He will know what to do with it, but you must not touch this object directly, and you must not be seen by anyone except for Sirius or Remus."

"If you do this, Dobby, it could save Harry's life," I add, also kneeling. "Not to mention thousands of other lives."

"But please be careful, Dobby, I don't want you to do anything that might hurt you," Hermione says, joining us on the floor. "_We_ don't want you hurt."

The squeaky House Elf is fully in tears now. "Harry Potter cares about Dobby so much? Harry Potter is a great wizard, and so is his friends. Dobby will take this dangerous thing, and make Harry Potter safe. Nobody will find Dobby, just like when Dobby delivered Harry Potter's not-wizard friend's gifts."

Gee, thanks for the reminder, Dobs.

"Okay," Hermione says, falling into her bossy voice. "The item we're looking for is a stone bust with a diadem – like a tiara or crown. But you mustn't touch the diadem! Wrap it in a blanket or towel and make sure it won't fall out or stick out such that you might accidentally touch it."

"Dobby will find it, Harry Potter's Grangy, Dobby will find it!" With that the excited little Elf sped off into the labyrinth of junk.

"I suppose we should split up and help look," I say. "If I'm not mistaken, the bust is somewhat close to the Vanishing Cabinet, so if we find one, we have a good starting place to search for the other."

"_Accio_ diadem," Harry incants with a quick draw of his wand. Nothing happens.

Hermione clears her throat to enter professor mode again. "Could be an anti-Summoning Charm on the diadem itself, or just one on the Room itself. I don't think it's the latter, though, since we practiced Summoning Charms in here before the First Task. Although it's possible it might just be this version of the Room. Another possibility is the fact that you can't Summon anything that's alive, and a Horcrux has at least a piece of a soul in it."

"But Neville Banished Professor Flitwick in class, and that's the countercharm," Harry points out.

"They function differently," Hermione says, waving the point away. "I suppose in that sense they aren't exactly counterspells. Neville Banished Professor Flitwick because his aim was off, but you can't aim wrong with the Summoning Charm."

"Unless you want Dobby to do all the work himself, I suggest we postpone the discussion of the mysteries of magic until later," I say with a smile. Honestly I wouldn't mind having Dobby do all the work, and I almost say so, but...

The sight of Dobby sprinting as he turned the corner of one of the paths cuts off my thought. "Dobby has found it, sir!"

I love you, Dobby.

* * *

A/N:

Phew, that was a close one, Hair-Bear. Hopefully he doesn't discuss his theory with Hermione...

Fun fact: Ollivander showed a maple and phoenix feather wand (what Daphne has in my story) to Harry when he goes to get his wand, and that is the only other wand with a phoenix feather mentioned in the series.

There was indeed a fic in which Fleur's grandmother removed the Horcrux, but unfortunately I can't remember which one that was.

In canon, nothing that is alive is ever Summoned. With the range of the Summoning Charm, it would be too powerful to be able to use it on anybody. In fact there is a fanfiction like this, where Harry defeats Voldemort by Summoning his body parts individually from the safety of Grimmauld Place. Curiously, the Triwizard Cup is Summoned in the graveyard, so unless being used as a portkey destroyed the anti-summoning charm (or the anti-summoning charm is area-based) all any of the Champions had to do was stand at the entrance and Summon it. We shall be ignoring that.

R & R, C & C.


	23. Chapter 23: Meet the Parents, Part II

Disclaimer: I once time-traveled into the past to try and write Harry Potter first, but JK Rowling also time-traveled and finished just before me.

Note: I've gone back and fixed a few grammatical errors in previous chapters...which nobody told me about. I'm glaring at you, readers from before I fixed them. I don't know if you can tell that from looking at your past reviews, but if so, you don't need to go back and re-read (unless you want to) since I didn't really add anything. I did remove the progress notes that said I wasn't finished, though.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Meet the Parents, Part II**

Our training in the Room of Requirement picked up, and with the Vanishing Cabinet destroyed and the Horcrux gone, we decide it's okay to let a few more people in. I still don't want Crouch/Moody to find out, though, so we don't go too crazy. In fact, our first newcomer – much to the annoyance of certain members of the group – is Fleur.

"Um, Harry, aren't we here to help you train?" Neville asks, eyes flickering nervously to the French beauty as his face flushes bright red. "Wouldn't it be bad to train your competition as well?"

"It's not like we'll be fighting each other," Harry says with a shrug. "At least, I hope not. With her here, we can train harder."

"Besides, don't you want to see Fleur play our game?" I say innocently. The smiles that grow on the other girls' faces are not so innocent.

"What game is _zis_?" Fleur asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Why don't you demonstrate, William?" Hermione asks sweetly.

"Oh yes, William, please demonstrate for your guest," Daphne says just as sweetly. Coming from Hermione, that tone of voice is certainly ominous, but from Daphne it's terrifying.

Oh damn. I'm gonna need a Blood Replenisher after this. With an audible gulp, I walk to my doom and turn to face them. Hermione and Daphne are already in position, smiling widely. With some trepidation I look back to the others. "Who else is in the firing squad?"

Luna and Astoria immediately volunteer, and Astoria begs Luna to let her. Tracey pipes up to settle it. "How about both?"

"Four of you?" My voice comes out higher pitched than it should. And here I was worried about Harry taking the third place...I never last long against those three.

"Why not?" Hermione asks. The two younger girls take position right next to each other, forming the apex of the equilateral triangle of attackers.

My head and shoulders droop dramatically, but then a thought occurs to me and I stand up straighter and smile. I've got my secret weapon, and it's time to use it. My left hand slides into a pocket casually.

"What are you smiling at?" Daphne asks suspiciously.

"You shall see, my dear," I say with a grin, which widens when my term of endearment makes her eyes narrow.

Hermione looks at me suspiciously as well. "Harry?"

"Don't look at me, I have no idea," he says, holding his hands in front of him.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "No, I mean, give us the count."

"Oh, right. You know the rules, ladies: Stunners only, target cannot retaliate. Watch for friendly fire. Here we go! Three..." Harry gives a slow count.

"Aren't you going to use both hands?" Astoria asks.

"Two..."

"I don't need both today, sweetheart," I say with a wide grin. I wink at Daphne's darkened face and wonder just why the hell I'm taunting them. A thin stream of magic trickles into my left hand just above the control rune.

"One...mark!"

"_STUPEFY_!" Four voices shout in tandem.

A spherical, shimmering blue shield leaps into existence around me when I activate the control rune, and I roll the runestone so I can link up with the _sowilo_ power rune and monitor the charge.

The Stunners splash harmlessly against my Shield and I cover my mouth as I fake yawn. This power rune has at least double and maybe nearly triple my magical power stored within, so it can easily take five more shots from each. Daphne packs a mean punch, though, and she'll bust out a dozen Stunners before Astoria casts half that many. It also doesn't help that Luna is almost as strong as Hermione, and sometimes seems to know what I'm going to do before I do it. I start stretching then.

"What's this, Lerner?" Daphne calls. "_Stupefy_!"

"Just limbering up, my dear," I say with a lazy smile.

"_STUPEFY_!"

Yeah, I am so going to get hurt when this is over. I start to dodge, hopping in between Daphne and Luna, hoping one of the younger girls make Daphne lose her concentration. I dance over to between Hermione and the Ravenclaw/Slytherin pair for the same reason. Hermione and Daphne are too good for that to work between them, but it does make them more predictable when I don't have this giant shield absorbing spells that won't hit me. Speaking of my shield, it's down to less than half power.

"It's a Shield rune!" Hermione calls. "_Stupefy_!"

"He can't have much left," Daphne calls back. "I'll take it, you guys hit him as soon as it drops!"

"Don't want to save the honor of dropping me for yourself, Daph?" I ask teasingly.

"Oh, I will have my chance," she says with a malicious smile. She snaps off three more Stunners, all of which make a direct hit and nearly wipe out my shield. I'm between her and Hermione then, so when the next one has almost reached me, I quickly drop the Shield and duck out of the way. My left hand comes out and I hold both of them up as they spring spheres of shimmering blue, both of them slightly smaller than beach balls centered on my palms.

As I expect, Hermione has to dodge Daphne's Stunner so Luna gets one off first, followed shortly after by the other three. I dodge Luna's and Daphne's – the former was aiming where she thought I'd be but wasn't, but the latter was too close for comfort. I have to block Hermione's and Astoria's, which doesn't drain too much of my magic. As I suspect, Daphne recovers first, followed by Luna, and I dash toward the younger Ravenclaw to dodge the older Slytherin's spell. Out of the corner of my eye I see a blast of red coming much quicker than I expected from Hermione, so I'm forced to block that as well.

With her quicker-than-expected recovery all semblance of planning goes out the window. It's just a dance of instinct and reaction continuing for what seems like minutes, but my heart is beating so fast that time seems to slow around us. It's strange, despite my highly increased pulse rate, I feel calm – detached from the urgency of dodging spells that could very well injure me. Jump forward, duck, swat at one as if to bat it away, jump back, whip my arm up to block another.

I wake up looking into the serene visage of Luna and a grinning Astoria. "Welcome back," the latter says, all too pleased with herself. She must be the one who got me.

"Hello, William," Luna says. "You lasted an entire two minutes, thanks to that first shield. Was that one of your handheld runestones?"

Despite how pathetic two minutes sounds, I grin back. "It was." The two tiny girls try to haul me up, but I probably weigh more than both of them combined so they fail. With a laugh I push myself up. My stomach aches but I quickly determine that I still have over half of my magic. I note Daphne and Hermione deliberately not looking at me, so I turn a questioning look back to the two girls that helped me up.

"They're just mad they didn't get you," Astoria says smugly. Yep, she definitely got me.

"And that you were laughing," Luna adds.

That startles me. "I was?"

She tilts her head at me and smiles. "It was quite amusing."

"Bloody hell, that was brilliant, mate!" Ron calls out, apparently now oblivious to the Veela aura that usually turns him into a blubbering fool.

"_C'est fantastique..._" Fleur says, her dark blue eyes alight. "I 'ave never seen shields like _zat._"

I blush at the look I'm getting from her. "It's a standard Shield Charm, but I can center it on my palms, control the size, and feed it more energy as needed." This is one of the things Hermione and I discovered in our more in-depth experiments, after I pointed out the mistake - the one that did not involve lips, that is - in our first one. As long as I stick to standard wizarding spells, I'm much, much better off. The fireball was close enough to the Blasting Curse that it was still possible, but let's just say that trying to directly break one of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration was a rather poor decision on my part, even if it could have solved my whole abject poverty thing.

"You're getting good with it, too," Harry says, "I wish I could do that."

I snort. "The only reason I have to be able to do it is because I can't just layer up overpowered Shields like you can. Unlike you I have to conserve my magic."

"That doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard of," Fleur says, brows furrowed.

It shouldn't, considering I'm not even a wizard. Obviously I don't share that little tidbit, and Harry and Hermione suddenly look similarly interested in their shoes.

"How much did you use on me?" Fleur asks quietly.

I blush at that. "I don't know, that was...well, most of it was not my normal magic. All I can tell you is that almost half of my normal magic wasn't enough."

"H-how?"

"William doesn't have much in the way of magical reserves," Hermione says, "but what he does have he can control better than anyone I've ever seen. I wouldn't be surprised if he could fire a single Stunner stronger than Dumbledore's, though Dumbledore could fire a hundred of them."

That deepens my blush, of course, so I walk over and put my arm around her and kiss her on top of her head. "I'm glad you aren't mad at me anymore, my dearest."

She quickly throws my arm off her and glares at me. "I am! I just...forgot." In response I merely laugh, so she slaps me on the shoulder. "Prat," she mutters.

"So who's next?" I ask. "Personally I want to see how long Harry lasts against Daph and a fellow Triwizard Champion."

"I really don't like you, William," Harry mutters as the others nod in agreement with me.

* * *

After falling into the rhythm of classes and training, I freeze in panic when, in the Common Room before bed one night, Hermione plops down next to me and suddenly asks if I've figured out what I'm going to say to Daphne's father this weekend.

"I completely forgot about that," I say in a dull voice. What _am_ I going to say? At first I think I could just ask about Horcruxes much as we did the Delacours, but we don't have the Life Debt to rely on.

"What is it, William?" Hermione looks quite concerned; I imagine my face is quite pale.

I look over to see Harry deeply involved in a game of chess with Neville and Ron hovering to watch. So I set up a Privacy Charm for just the two of us. It's curious that I can manage it so easily now, as though I don't even need to think about it. "I was just wondering if how we could ask him about the Horcruxes directly, and that got me second guessing exactly how safe we are as it is, after sharing it with the Delacours. Did we get more than their word that the Life Debt protected us? Should we have demanded something that we know for certain would have worked, like an Unbreakable Vow?"

Hermione sucks in a breath. "I just don't know, William," she says, eyes distant as she ponders that. After a few moments she shakes it off. "I think we made the right choice, if nothing else because of the Life Debt. Add that to the fact that much of the British wizarding world look down upon them because they're Veela, and your secrets are important weapons in that fight..."

I nod. "I think so too, but we've still left open an avenue of attack."

"You sound like Professor Moody," she says.

I clap my hands and yell, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

That earns me a poke to the kidney after she jumps at the loud noise. "Prat!"

"Sorry," I say, though my laugh only earns me another jab, so I try to turn it into a cough. "Right, well that still leaves us with the original question," I say, and thankfully my tone is satisfactory enough to her that there are no more kidney jabs coming. "I feel like we can trust Daphne's father based on my impressions of him so far, but I'm leaning heavily toward not telling him. I think it's too dangerous."

"He seemed nice enough at the Second Task," Hermione says.

"Daphne says he knows blood purity is rubbish, but he's also a shrewd businessman and he desires neutrality. That's not to mention he could just go to Dumbledore with it in order to protect his daughters. It was difficult enough to convince the Delacours that we really didn't want Dumbledore involved yet, and they aren't even British! Daphne's father could every easily decide it's in his best interests to divulge that information unless we could get him to take a binding oath or something."

"Obviously he wouldn't take an Unbreakable Vow, but there are binding contracts, like the Goblet of Fire," Hermione says, thinking out loud. Then she frowns. "I wouldn't know how to make one of those, though."

Before I can stop myself, a bubble of laughter escapes me.

"What?"

"Nothing," I say, biting my lip to suppress a grin. "Just that I would bet my life that you could figure it out if we had a bit more time." Like by the first Hogsmeade weekend of your Fifth Year, perhaps, though I don't know that Lord Greengrass would be terribly intimidated by a curse that writes the word "SNEAK" across his forehead.

She nudges me playfully and blushes. "Don't say that!"

"Okay, then I would bet everything Harry owns." She snorts but doesn't reply, merely maintaining her blush. For a few moments neither of us speak, so before it gets too uncomfortable between us I pull her to me for a quick hug. "I'm going to turn in early. I need to think about what I'm going to say."

She looks like she's going to say something, but she drops her gaze and rests her head on my shoulder for a moment. "Okay, good night, William," she says with a sigh.

I kiss her on the forehead. "Good night, my dearest."

* * *

Having been thrown head first into this adventure seven months ago, it's difficult to believe that this is my first time using any of the three magical transportation methods. I've been far too frightened to try Apparition on my own, and similarly I'm afraid to try to make a portkey, though I'm sure traveling side-along or using somebody else's portkey would be fine.

So here I stand, looking at the floo powder with a mixture of dread and curiosity. Can non-wizards use floo powder? I don't see why not, but if the network is affected by my magic I could still end up at the wrong place, or worse, stuck in some sort of limbo.

"Is something wrong, William?" Hermione asks.

"My magic..." I say, not looking back toward her, Harry, and Daphne. Astoria had already gone through.

Silence for a moment. "It will be okay, William," Hermione says softly. "You'll make it okay."

Idly I wonder if she's trying to convince me or herself. Screwing up my supposedly Gryffindor courage, I grab some floo powder and step up to the fire. "Greengrass Manor!"

I flash of green flame precedes an exceedingly uncomfortable tumbling sensation, as if gravity can't decide what direction it's supposed to pull me. After a fe moments that seemed to drag on forever, gravity suddenly rights itself. My hands shoot out toward the marble floor tiles, and I barely catch myself before I break my nose on them.

"Phew, that was fun," I say wryly, picking myself up off the floor.

"Welcome, Mr. Lerner," Lord Greengrass says, offering me his hand.

I quickly make sure my hands are clean of soot before accepting. "Thank you Lord Greengrass," I say with as much dignity as I can muster with soot-stained robes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again," his wife says, offering her own shortly after. "We wanted to visit you after the Second Task, but unfortunately we had business to attend to."

"I understand, Lady Greengrass, think nothing of it."

"Was that your first time using the floo?" Astoria asks.

"It was," I say.

Her parents look surprised at that, but any comments are cut off by Hermione stepping out of the fireplace easily. Hermione quickly introduces herself in quite a formal manner, and I have to wonder if she read about the proper way to greet a Lord and Lady.

The formality of the situation is sort of ruined by Hermione and Astoria hugging and giggling when Harry is the next one to come through, as he also ends up on all fours. At least he didn't end up on his back.

"Doesn't feel too good on the knees, eh?" I ask with a smile, helping him up.

"Eh, you've got a bit further to fall than I do," he says. I don't mention that I weigh probably sixty pounds more than he does, thanks to his treatment at the hands of his relatives. As he greets the Greengrasses, Daphne comes through and completes our party.

What follows is a tour of the most incredible house I've ever seen. Hogwarts is of course significantly larger, but the roughly-hewn, gothic structure of Hogwarts is primitive compared to the white marble floors, elegant wooden-framed archways, enormous framed portraits and tapestries, and unbelievably fancy furniture that I'd be afraid to use at all. As if following my thoughts, Hermione vanishes the soot from my robes, then turns and does the same for Harry. Eventually we make it back to the formal dining room, where we all sit down for dinner on the expansive table; Lord Greengrass at the head, his wife to his right, then Daphne and Astoria beyond her. Harry is on the man's left, followed by Hermione and then me, and all together the seven of us take up less than half the table. I resist the urge to cringe when a pair of House Elves serve us. Harry must have had the same thought, since we both glance at Hermione when they appear, but she offers very little outward discomfort.

Unfortunately, Astoria notices what little she did offer. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"N-nothing..." she says.

"Just a cultural difference between the Muggle and magical world," I say. "The idea that House Elves want or even need to serve wizarding families without any compensation is...quite unexpected."

"How do you mean?" Astoria asks with knitted brows.

"Well, there's nothing remotely like House Elves in the Muggle world, and to us they seem as intelligent as humans, so..." I shrug, letting them finish the thought on their own. "Then, when you consider that the first House Elf we meet is so viciously abused by the Malfoys, you can understand why we have such a poor impression of their situation."

"Not to mention poor Winky at the Quidditch Cup..." Hermione says sadly.

"Well, there's the problem," Daphne says. "Very few House Elves are treated as poorly as that. Stori and I each have our own, and they've been like sisters for as long as I can remember."

"Dilly is more fun than Aggy, though," Astoria says with a grin.

"House Elves often adopt the personalities of their owners," Daphne says with a glare, "which is why Dilly is a bit ditzy."

"Now, children, is that proper behavior in front of the future Lord Potter?" Daphne's father asks in a stern voice.

"My apologies, father, Lord Potter," Daphne says meekly.

Harry looks horrified. "Please, none of that, Daphne. Last I checked I don't have that title yet...as if your Head of House needs any more reason to think I'm some pampered prince that makes his friends address him formally."

"You'll have to learn sooner or later, Harry," Daphne points out.

"Maybe," he mutters, eyes on his food.

Lord and Lady Greengrass each raise an eyebrow at that but say nothing. I'm glad they don't, since I doubt Harry wants to go into the whole prophecy thing at the moment. Instead, Lady Greengrass deftly switches topics to the second Task and what has happened since, which brings about a game where we each try to embarrass the others when we talk about training.

"You should have seen Daphne try to Stun me again when I all I did was flash a light in her direction," I say with a grin.

The elder daughter does not find this amusing. "You did not just 'flash a light.'"

"Again?" Lady Greengrass asks at the same time.

I laugh. "Oh, didn't she mention how she hit me with a Stunner from behind after I asked Astoria to be my date?"

Her mother gasps at that. "Daphne!"

"It was his fault! He...he...hugged me!" She turns red as she realizes how that sounds now.

Her father's eyebrows jump into his hairline while everybody besides Daphne laughs with varying degrees of mirth. Hermione forces it a bit, since she was none too happy with Daphne about that, but Astoria is howling. "I can't believe I forgot about that! He said...when Luna revived him he said, 'c'mon Daph, you could have at least used a Cushioning Charm.'" She resumes laughing hysterically.

An incredulous breath breaks through Daphne's indignation; she apparently hadn't heard that.

"It took a while, but she's once again starting to appreciate the value of a good hug now, I'm proud to say." I grin since I know that would earn me a smack if we weren't in the presence of her parents.

As it is she glares at me a bit, but her mother cuts in before she can say anything. "I daresay you're right, Mr. Lerner...I don't think she even noticed that she gave me a hug when she got here, even though she hasn't done that for two years."

"Mother..." Daphne whines, face burning.

I smile mischievously. "Now all we need to do is look at her outrageously adorable baby pictures and her utter humiliation will be complete!"

"I'll get th—" Astoria begins, but Daphne quickly clamps a hand over her sister's mouth and holds her in her seat.

"You are _so_ lucky my parents are here, Lerner," she says with the coldest ice-blue glare I've ever seen.

I am so going to pay for this, but I laugh anyway. It doesn't help that the rest of the Greengrass family appears to be stifling laughter as well. "Our next training session shall be most enjoyable, wouldn't you say, Harry?"

Harry snorts. "Says you, Neville and I are the ones who usually have to roll you over, fix your nose, and force Blood Replenishing Potion down your throat."

"Does that happen often?" Daphne's mother asks, slightly concerned.

"Just to William," Hermione says, smirking at me.

"That's right, our Hermione here Stunned me four times and broke my nose the first weekend of school," I say, patting her on the shoulder firmly as she flushes with embarrassment.

"Wow, that's much worse than what Daph did to you!" Astoria says with wide eyes. "What, did you try to kiss her or something?"

It's not surprising that they initially misinterpret my raucous laughter and Hermione's deep blush. "I said much the same thing, Stori, but I didn't even get a hug out of it."

"We were training," Hermione says, obviously suppressing the urge to call me names and/or whack me on the arm.

Daphne notices that, too. "Oh, please do feel free to give him a solid smack or two in our favorite place, Hermione," she says sweetly.

"You know that only encourages him," Harry says as I pout and rub my arm.

"Maybe, but I think we enjoy it more," Hermione says with a sniff. Daphne nods firmly in agreement.

* * *

"If I knew you were all going to study the whole time, I would have stayed at school," Astoria whines, throwing a glare at us over folded arms from the entrance into the main Greengrass library. Hermione is sitting cross-legged with piles of books around her as large as she is, while Daph and Harry are actually leaning up against the side of the same stack, looking at something in one of the books from her pile. I'm pacing back and forth, trying to read with one hand and twirl my wand with the other. Her interruption makes me drop it.

"I did warn you," Daphne says in a flat voice, not even looking up.

"Well I didn't think you were this serious," Astoria pouts.

Unlike her sister, Harry does look up, and from my angle I can see him frown slightly. "Sorry, Stori, why don't you suggest something?" he offers.

"Don't listen to her," Daphne says dismissively.

"I dunno, Daph, I could use a break myself," I say. "Watching Hermione sit in that same position for hours on end makes my knees hurt."

"You've been watching Hermione for hours on end?" Harry asks with a grin.

I grin back. "You didn't see me change books at all, did you?"

"William!" Hermione scolds, blushing red.

"Actually I saw you change books three times," Daphne says.

I laugh at that. "Fine, fine, ruin my fun why don't you?"

"Mrs. Moment Ruiner?" Harry asks.

Daphne simultaneously jabs Harry in the kidney and glares at me. I'm tempted to say that she and Hermione can stay while Harry, Astoria, and I go do something, but I don't feel particularly interested in inviting more wrath upon myself any more this trip. Daphne had already given me a solid thrashing or three in the dueling room for my performance that first dinner. Stori made it a little worse by actually bringing out said baby pictures.

Okay, I _probably_ should not have pointed out that Harry, Hermione, and I can now brag with complete honesty that we all saw Daphne Greengrass posing nude.

I clear my throat, hoping to redirect the Ice Queen's ire. "Any suggestions?"

"Well anything has to be better than studying!" Astoria says animatedly. "It's nice outside today so let's go!" I wonder if she's more open and expressive from hanging out with us...I seem to remember thinking she was going for a more Daphne-like aloofness the first time I met her. When she marches up to Harry and pulls him up and then grabs my hand to lead us out of the library, I decide that I'm right. Just before we exit I glance back to find the two girls looking at each other, but we've turned the corner before I can hear any conversation.

"Where we headed, Stori?" I ask.

"Outside, like I said." She doesn't drop our hands, but my loping stride gives our arms some slack on either side of our joined hands. Poor Harry is only slightly taller than her, though.

"Shouldn't we wait for—" Harry begins, but Astoria cuts him off.

"Ha! Like they would let me steal their boyfriends away and not follow."

"Um, Astoria, we're not..." Harry says, but once again the young Slytherin interrupts him, this time with a laugh.

"I know, I know...not yet, anyway," she says, giving Harry a mischievous grin. "I bet you date both of them by the time you take your NEWTs, Harry."

I chuckle at that. "I dunno, Stori. I mean, Hermione's a given, but I think it's even chance between you and Daphne." I pause for the embarrassed look before continuing. "Or maybe both."

Her horrified face makes me laugh. She glances at the ashen Gryffindor. "Um, Harry, look, I like you, but I don't know if Daph would let me date her ex-boyfriend."

I throw my head back and laugh harder.

She painfully pinches a tiny bit of skin on my hand, which hurts way worse than a punch to the arm. "Why are you _laughing_?"

"Man, Stori, can't you attack me like your fellow members of Harry's girlfriend club?" I wish I could take that back as soon as I say it, because her sudden smile is pure evil. "Okay, you got me again, what'll it be this time? How can we keep this a secret?"

"Keep _what_ a secret, Lerner?" a cold voice says behind me...a voice I have heard all too often these days.

"I found more suitable punishment for him," Astoria says in her deviously sweet voice.

I gasp theatrically. "Astoria Greengrass, we were bargaining for that secret! I guess I'll have to tell them what you said about dating Harry, now."

"_What_?" Daphne shrieks, completely losing control of her emotions for the first time.

"I said I wouldn't! I wouldn't!" her sister pleads.

"She only said she wouldn't if you date him first. Actually she said you and Hermione would both date him, and I think she meant at the same time..."

Icy glare doesn't even begin to describe her expression now. More like murderous.

I speak over the sputtering come from the other three. "I know! I told her, I said I highly doubted either of you two would share, but then there was talk about Harry's harem, drawing up a sleep schedule...honestly I don't know what she was—"

I wake up to find Harry hovering over me. "Welcome back," he says with a grin.

With a shake of my head I get my bearings. "Any blood this time?"

"No, it was a clean fall, and I had a Cushioning Charm ready the second you said 'harem.' I think you pushed it a bit too far this time."

I chuckle at that. "I felt bad that Daph looked like she wanted to kill her sister, so I figured I'd take the heat off her."

Harry rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "I should have figured you did that on purpose. You could have just said you were kidding, you know."

"Ah, but then I couldn't have planted the seeds for your future harem, my man! Sure it's outlandish to them now, but they'll be pondering the advantages of polyamory in no time."

"You sure you didn't do that for yourself?" Harry laughs and continues to shake his head. "You're barmy, you know that? You're lucky they didn't hear you or else I'd have to revive you from another triple Stunner attack."

I choke on my own saliva. "_All three of them_ got me?"

"That's right, if you're trying to build a harem you might want to work on the part where they don't keep you unconscious all the time," he says, then rolls his eyes at my expression. "...and stop grinning like that, I did not mean unconscious in a good way."

"Nah, that's the trick, Harry," I say, clapping his shoulder. "I'm just softening them up for you. You know, accepting their tough love so you can have the tender."

"You're an odd bloke, Will," he says, obviously used to my shenanigans by now. "Come on, let's go catch up so you can grovel."

* * *

Daphne snaps her book shut with a groan. "This is ridiculous. We're doing it today."

I wince. "Are you sure, Daph?"

"Absolutely," she says, a determined look on her face. "There's no sense in denying it, we've been wasting time!"

"But look at what else we've learned," Hermione says, holding up a journal. "And William has been writing in his cursebreaker's notebook."

"It hasn't been a waste, Daph," I agree, "but if you're sure, it would be nice to find an instruction manual or something. The only hint I've had regarding warding that affects souls are the ones for ghosts and poltergeists, and I'd be too afraid to test any modifications of my own with a living soul."

"That would be prudent," Hermione says wryly. "I'd also be afraid to try any spells using what I could derive from the Killing Curse, which forcibly ejects the soul from the body. And that's assuming this guy's theory on the Arithmantic deconstruction of emotion-based spells is actually valid, which is questionable since he could only test his modifications to the Patronus Charm."

"Legally," Daphne says, which makes Hermione's eyes bulge.

"Do you think he—?"

"Maybe, but more importantly, it might not matter at all," Daphne cuts in. "If my father has anything at all about dark rituals, it would be in his personal library, if not completely hidden away at Gringott's."

Harry and Hermione deflate when they hear that. "Seems like he would keep something like that at Gringott's."

Daphne shrugs. "Not necessarily. In fact, I've been thinking about this since the first time you told me, William. It's possible, even probable, that he's already done his own research into Riddle's activities. My father is a brilliant man."

"How would he know..." Harry begins, but she cuts him off again.

"His seat on the Wizengamot. Even if rumors of the events at the school – which my father says have been raised at the open Board of Governors meetings, by the way – even if those weren't enough by themselves, he'd find out just talking to Death Eaters in a formal setting." Daphne sounds absolutely confident in her father's ability. The man has a piercing gaze, to be sure...does that mean he uses some form of Legilimency? Perhaps he taught his daughter... "Whatever the reason, as I told you, William, he believes Riddle is coming back."

"Did your father teach you how to tell if someone is telling the truth?" I ask quietly.

She hesitates a moment, then with a nervous glance toward Harry and Hermione, nods.

"Did you teach Hermione how to do that to William?" Harry asks with a grin.

She eyes up the other girl. "No, she must have figured it out on her own."

Hermione blushes, but Harry says, "You don't do it to me."

"You don't hide things from me," she replies, taking the opportunity to glare at me.

"I'm sure you two don't tell each other _everything_," I say with a grin.

She rolls her eyes. "I can practically hear the lewd thoughts behind that comment, William, so stop it. You won't get a rise out of me." Then her eyes narrow. "And don't you dare say what I think you're going to say."

I laugh. "Why, I'm sure I have no idea what you thought I might say. Your mind must be...elsewhere."

"Are you children quite finished?" Daphne says, eyebrow raised. "We were actually going somewhere with this conversation, you know."

Hermione blushes and mumbles an apology. I opt to make a sweeping bow. "My sincerest apologies, dearest Daphne."

"You are not forgiven. Are you guys ready?"

Hermione sucks her bottom lip. "Are you sure about this, Daph?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't," she says coolly.

"Why?" Harry asks quietly, looking down.

"Why what?"

He looks up into her eyes. "Why are you so intent on helping me? On helping us? This isn't your—"

"Don't," Daphne cuts him off. "Don't say it isn't my responsibility, or it's not my fight. Despite my better judgment, this big prat..." she jerks her thumb at me, "...he...helped, slightly...in convincing me it was in my best interest to help you. So helping you is what I'm doing, and I'm going to do it to the best of my ability."

"Daph..." Hermione says gratefully, but the other girl ignores her.

"We won't get a better opportunity; my mother will come back and check on us soon, but my father won't be back until dinner. So here's what—" Daphne is cut off by the doors opening to admit her mother and sister.

"Ugh, you guys are studying again?" Astoria whines. "Can't you take a snog break or something for once?" That makes Harry and I burst out in laughter, which confuses the young Slytherin. "What?"

"Back when Will and Hermione were always off studying together, we used to say they were really snogging," Harry says.

"I still don't know why studying needed a euphemism," Hermione pouts.

"You had to be there," I say, waving off the odd looks the Greengrasses were giving us.

"Well, your father sent a message that he'd be a little late," Lady Greengrass says. "Do consider going outside and having a bit of fun, would you, Daph?"

"We will consider it," Daphne says evenly, deliberately opening a book and leaning over to read it.

Her mother and sister both sigh and leave without another word, and Daphne waits a matter of seconds before closing her book and rising to her feet. "Come on. And don't say a word until I say it's okay."

Hermione and I jump up to follow while Harry pulls out his Invisibility Cloak for himself. Daphne had insisted on that, since it would be very bad indeed for the future Lord Potter if they were to be caught. She leads us to a different door than the one her mother had just exited, but she opens it slowly to carefully peek out anyway. She cringes when the door creaks, but I quickly Silence it, which she acknowledges with a nod. When the coast is clear, she steps out and walks briskly down the hall I recognize from the tour which leads toward her father's study.

She opens the door and heads straight to the bookcase that appears to be filled such that each row has identical books all the way across. Holding a finger to her lips to indicate that we should stay silent, she partially pulls on one from each of the top three rows, and the bookcase swings outward. How very cloak-and-dagger! I certainly never expected to see anything like this is real life.

Inside there are far fewer bookcases than I might have thought, but that makes sense considering their extensive regular library. How many tomes could possibly need to be hidden like this? In fact, many of the bookshelves contain items that are rather frightening in appearance...and probably function, too. Obviously I don't recognize most of them, but I shudder at a jar of quills with blood red feathers that I assume are blood quills. Some of the items look vaguely familiar, and I realize I've probably seen some similar items in the headmaster's office.

I'm jolted from my observations by a tapping on my shoulder, and I turn to see a pair of intense ice-blue eyes on mine. She slightly nods her head to the side, pointing at a bookcase. I nod back with the understanding that I'm supposed to check that one, and I note that Hermione is already rifling through something.

I follow her example and lose myself in the process of pulling books and journals and flipping through them. The journals are the worst, since that kind of information could live anywhere. I decide it would be quickest to tackle the books first, though many of them don't even have a table of contents, let alone an index, which would be ideal for this particular task. Blowing out a frustrated breath at the clash between the danger of getting caught and the sluggish progress of digging through tomes, I lean back and take a better look at the covers, hoping that perhaps the darkest, most evil-looking books might represent the content. The first one is a bust, but just as I pull the second one I hear a throat clear behind me.

"Daphne, I do hope there is an adequate explanation for this." The piercing gaze of Lord Greengrass matched the soft and deadly voice perfectly.

* * *

A/N:

Getting through this one was a bit of a battle, since I started posting this story while I was in the middle of writing this chapter. So hopefully it didn't suffer from my breaks to proofread and write a quick oneshot.

R & R, C & C.


	24. Chapter 24: Sacrifice and Consequence

Disclaimer: I've personally caught over a hundred people in JK Rowling's personal library, using the Harry Potter universe for their own enjoyment. What happened with some of them...well, it wasn't pretty, I can tell you that.

Putting this up quicker since I forgot to mention I left you with a cliffhanger last chapter. You guys weren't supposed to take me seriously, punishing me with fewer reviews for leaving you hanging!

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Sacrifice and Consequence**

"_I think it best that our guests return to Hogwarts."_

Even now, two nights later on the eve of spring term, the memory of that command still sends a cold terror shooting down my spine, keeping me awake at night until I can chase it away with happier memories. Trying to feed it to the Flame and banish it to the Void works, but once I fall asleep I lose it, and it's either Lord Greengrass or Lord Voldemort delivering the command.

I don't know how long I keep this up before I think I hear the door to our dorm click shut. It's one of those sounds where I can't tell if it was real, or if it happened when I fell asleep and it woke me up. I strain to hear more, but the only time it's quiet is between Ron's snores. When the curtains around my bed start to move, magic leaps to my fingers. It quickly dies down, however, when the curtains part to reveal a pale face surrounded by an extra bushy mess of hair.

"William," Hermione whispers.

I lever myself up onto an elbow, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. "Are you okay?"

She bites her lip and shakes her head, then her eyes flicker down to the bed, and I understand immediately. Though in the faint light I can't see the dark circles under her eyes, I know that she's been sleeping just as poorly as I have. That surprised me at first considering she's seen much scarier things than I have, but being caught in a library trying to find information about dark rituals must be one of her worst nightmares. I never asked her, but she probably dreams of being tossed into Azkaban just like I do.

So I lift up my covers and scoot over to the far edge of the bed. She gives me an embarrassed and nervous half-smile, then climbs into bed and mirrors my position up on an elbow. "Um, I don't want to...I mean, I just wanted to..."

"Shh, I understand, Hermione. I can't sleep either. Come on." I lay down and hold my arms out to her, but she lays down on the opposite side of the bed with her face toward me.

"Harry still doesn't seem to be affected," she says.

"I had assumed it was because he deals with much scarier things than an angry father, plus he was hidden so he didn't get the full brunt of the glare. Actually I'm surprised you're having the same issue I am, considering some of the things you've seen."

Her top shoulder droops, then she fidgets with the pillowcase a moment before speaking. "We might have been so close to finding something..."

I sigh. "Maybe, but maybe not. We'll see Daph tomorrow and find out what she could get out of her father."

She gives me a half smile. "You still think she's going to get anything but trouble for inviting us in there."

"Oh, he won't _tell_ her anything, but..."

"...but she'll learn just as much from what he doesn't say," Hermione finishes for me. "So you've said. Won't he be ready for that, though?"

"So _you've_ said," I counter. "No sense in continuing to argue when we'll find out what happened tomorrow."

"But what if...what if he tells the headmaster?" She shudders when she speaks, leading me to think I was right about her nightmares...though they probably also feature intense disappointment on the faces of the headmaster, the deputy headmistress, her parents...

Now it's my turn to give her a half-smile. Leave it to Hermione to want to continue arguing just for the sake of worrying. I reach over and take her hand. "Hermione, do you want to keep rehashing our discussion from earlier today – and yesterday and the day before, mind you – or do you want to try and get some sleep?"

She relaxes a bit when I massage her hand. "I know...it's just..." She sighs. "Well, you know."

"I do." She continues to bring it up so Harry and I will reassure her, an admission I squeezed from her earlier today. In reality I'm not as inwardly confident that Lord Greengrass won't go to Dumbledore, but that's just because that's pretty much the worst case scenario at this point. Logically, everything I know about Daphne tells me that she'll almost certainly get us out of trouble with anybody except her father, though that is little comfort to me. Suffice it to say we won't be seeing each other over the summer. "Now come on, let's get some sleep."

"O-okay..." She turns, flipping her tangled mass of hair over so she's facing away from me and tentatively sliding toward the center of the bed.

When she stops I scoot the rest of the way, letting my left arm slide between her shoulder and her neck, and resting my side against her back. "Is this okay or do you want my back?"

"Um...you can h-hold me...if you want," she says quietly.

I smile, thinking that is very much not a good idea. "For a little bit." I roll to my left side so my chest is pressed against her back, and I wrap my arm around her stomach to pull her tight. "Just jab me with an elbow if I...well, if you need to. Any reason. I apologize in advance for whatever it is."

She hums contentedly, throwing me off a bit the way she sounds like Luna. "I trust you."

Biting back a retort like, 'I don't', I settle for a deep breath, reveling in the ever pleasant aroma that is her hair. "Good night, Hermione."

"'Night, William."

When she makes a little moan in her sleep, it's time for me to roll away.

I'm a light sleeper, so I awaken when Hermione gets up to leave me in the pre-dawn light. Her light gasp of surprise and quickly shifting covers is plenty to wake me, and I note that I'm on my back and my shoulder is now cold. I'm too tired to keep my eyes open so I continue to breathe deeply, pretending to be asleep. I don't think it fools her, though, because she kisses my cheek.

"Thank you, William," she whispers.

I can't help the smile that slides onto my face. Then she kisses the same spot again and slips out of bed and out of the room. I roll over onto my right side and scoot back so my head is right where hers was, and I breath deeply once again.

When I open my eyes after what seems like a few moments, the brighter light and the very pleasant, lingering smell of Hermione conspire to keep my eyes shut, so I resolve to stay in bed as long as possible.

"Come on, Will, we let you sleep through breakfast but at this rate you'll miss Herbology," Harry says, throwing my curtains open.

I bury my face into my pillow. "I hate you."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, I'm getting up," I say, lifting my very heavy head up before forcing myself out of bed.

Hermione squeaks and spins around, and suddenly I realize that was her voice that asked what I said. Shortly after that I realize that I'm still just in my boxers, which quite possibly shifted a little more than they should have when I rolled out of bed. My face is on fire. "Um, sorry 'bout that, Hermione," I say with a nervous laugh. "Didn't notice you there." Harry is almost as embarrassed for me as I am for myself, so he doesn't say anything either while I throw on my robes. "Did you guys talk to Daphne, yet?" I change the subject as soon as it's safe for them to look.

Hermione, isn't taking any chances, though...she responds while still facing away from me. "We did, and you were right."

"Told ya!" I feel like a tremendous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. "Oh, I'm decent now, by the way."

Hermione turns and I deliberately watch her eyes, which flicker momentarily down to my midsection. When she sees me grinning, she blushes as red as I imagine I was. It was probably an involuntary reaction on her part, but I figure I'll still tease her about that later.

* * *

We finish our lunch quickly in order to speak to Daphne, since she doesn't take Care of Magical Creatures which is our Monday afternoon class. We take advantage of the rapidly warming spring weather and take a walk outside, where Daphne and Astoria join Harry, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and me.

"No Tracey and Blaise today?" I ask.

Daphne scowls a bit. "No, Blaise doesn't want us spending time with you anymore."

Astoria audibly growls and Hermione gasps at that bit of news. My heart sinks a little. "Ah, found out about last week, did he?"

She nods curtly. "Through Tracey, I imagine. He threatened to tell my father, as if my father doesn't already know that we would continue to be friends."

"Did he say anything? Your father, I mean," Hermione asks uncertainly.

"The most negative thing he told us was that we had best rethink who we allow to influence our behavior," she says tightly, as if that left a bad taste in her mouth to say it. "I pointed out that it was my idea to check his library from the start, and that we would have gotten away with it if we could have detected the intruder alarm enchantment on the entrance."

"So that's how he knew," Hermione exclaims.

Daphne nods. "He seemed more disappointed that I hadn't known or figured out that such a room would be warded beyond our ability to bypass," she says, then she looks pensive a moment. "It was very bizarre, actually. It was like he was trying to be angry."

"He seemed angry enough to me," Astoria mutters, but Daphne shakes her head.

"You had to listen to what he _wasn't_ saying," she says. "If I had to guess I would say he was actually proud that we had exhausted all the easily accessible channels for our research."

Astoria squints at her sister. "What were you researching, anyway?"

"None of your business," Daphne snaps before anyone else can say anything.

Astoria looks to me with a hopeful face, and I hold my hands up in surrender. "Sorry, Stori, I promised," I say with an apologetic look. At Daphne's glare I add, "and I'd rather you not get involved."

"You're only two years older than I am," she says hotly.

"Stori..." Hermione says.

"I'm not saying you're too young," I say, earning glares from the two older girls, but I don't shrink back from them. "After all, Harry fought an ancient basilisk with a sword when he was younger than you." Daphne chokes and the blood drains completely from Astoria's face. Even Luna looks shaken. "But I think he'd agree that his adventures are never something you should be anxious to get into, especially if you don't know what they usually entail."

"Didn't stop you," Hermione mutters.

"If it helps, Luna and I don't know either," Neville put in. "But if they ask either one of us, we'd help in a heartbeat." Damn, Neville really is awesome. Luna nods and puts her head against his arm, as if she's thinking the same thing.

"Um, thanks Neville...so you're not in trouble with your father, Daphne?" Harry tries to change the subject, clearly feeling uncomfortable.

After several moments of opening and closing her mouth, Daphne finally recovers enough to speak slowly. "Like I said, the best I can come up with is the idea that he's secretly proud, even if he's acting angry about it."

"Wow, that..." Harry trails off, shaking his head trying to comprehend that.

"...makes sense," Luna finishes for him, tilting her head.

"You wanna explain that?" Neville asks when she doesn't elaborate.

"Information is power," she says simply. "Why else do you think my father runs a periodical? Why wouldn't Lord Greengrass be proud of a daughter who is gathering information and powerful allies, just like I imagine he did when he was at Hogwarts."

Daphne nods. "Besides, everybody in the school knows about our friendship, so it's not like I can seem neutral anymore, so he didn't try to forbid us from being around you."

"So Blaise is treating you as though your father disapproves so that your father can remain neutral," I say.

That brings Daphne up short. "That makes perfect sense!" She smacks her forehead. "I bet father sent Blaise an owl telling him to do exactly that!"

Astoria looks pissed. "Why would Blaise go along with it when he has to know that we won't? Now Trace is stuck in the middle..."

"You know what Blaise is like," Daphne says. "He was against me talking to William from the start, so perhaps he thinks everything can go back to the way it was."

"Change is scary enough on its own," I say, "it's even scarier when it's involuntary."

"But Tracey..." Astoria repeats.

Daphne shrugs. "She'll be fine, Stori. We just won't be able to spend time with all of our friends at the same time for a little while. This is how it was for me at the beginning."

Luna surprises Daphne with a hug, and I have to cough to cover up...and temper...my reaction seeing the smaller Ravenclaw squishing her face against the taller Slytherin's chest. "Do you think he'd mind if I spend time with you and Astoria and Tracey? I've never had _two_ groups of friends to be with."

"Of course you can, Luna," Astoria says before Daphne can respond, which is unsurprising since the two adorable younger girls became close during our training sessions and their puppy-dog eye wars. It's also unsurprising that Daphne takes longer to respond since she still becomes rigid at first when she's hugged like that. I really do wonder about the story behind that sometimes, but obviously it can't be good.

Once they separate I try to take her mind off of whatever it is. "So how much does your father know?"

"I told him nothing, but it's safe to assume he knows what I know, if not more," she says. "After all, I still only have a vague idea of what you were looking for."

"You haven't told her, either?" Astoria asks in shock.

"That was by my own choice, Stori," Daphne says quickly. "I know enough to understand that I don't want to know any more."

"Um, I'll still help however you want, but if it's all the same to you...if she doesn't want to know then I don't want to know, either," Neville says, looking pale.

* * *

With some of the danger of the Room of Requirement gone, the training group continues to grow. Viktor is invited, and he comes alone, then Hermione insists for fairness that Cedric be invited. Of course that leads to extending the invitation to a number of Hufflepuffs, including Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, that overheard them as well as Cho being invited. They decide to hold the next one outside on the grounds, since it was going to spread so quickly. Sure enough, the Gryffindors soon accosted our group about not being invited, a number of them insisting on being there as well, so it turns out we don't need to spread word of the Room of Requirement after all. I was okay showing off in front of Fleur, but I beg off that session with the excuse that I'm going to work on my next projects.

In reality I'm getting more and more nervous about the coming confrontation, and a bit of wood carving relaxes me. I can't focus enough to get anything out of the Egyptian warding book; it certainly doesn't help that the hieroglyphs are far more complicated and numerous than the limited Elder Futhark runes. I decide to carve a new set of picture frames, since those were such a big hit as gifts. Since Astoria didn't get one I make her one like the others first, except instead of simple circles with runes inscribed I plan to make them egg-shaped with serpents coiling around them. I find myself continually having to jump ahead to lightly etching out the more detailed portions, because otherwise my mind wanders. I haven't given Sirius and Remus any deadline, but now it's coming up and I haven't heard anything since they sent a note implying that they successfully retrieved a second one. I really hope I don't have to write them and give anything away. The plan is crystallizing in my head, and I turn it over and over trying to weigh each sacrifice and consequence.

Hermione doesn't come back to my bed after she finds out there won't be any trouble from Lord Greengrass, and by unspoken consent we never bring it up. I want to more and more, though, to ask her to come back. Each night it seems to get worse, where I have to try and distract myself with something else since I still can't hold the Void while I'm about to fall asleep. The worst day yet comes when we're sitting in the common room and Harry is summoned away for Triwizard business, a month before the Third Task. Luckily this happened in the late evening, so I can pretend like I have to use the restroom.

Well, not really pretend, since I lose my dinner as soon as I get in there.

"Are you okay, William?" I don't look turn over to look at Hermione when she asks me that from the door to our room.

"I don't feel very well," I say with some regret. I could really use some comforting right now, but I don't want her to get suspicious. "Something I ate, I think," I add to reinforce my cover.

"Do you need me to get you anything? Do you want to go see Madam Pomfrey?" She walks around and sits on the side of the bed. I close my eyes in relief when she places a cool hand on my forehead. "You're pale, and you feel a bit warm."

I groan slightly when she pulls her hand away, as I had been extracting some comfort from the contact. "I wouldn't mind if you kept your hand there," I say, but I realize belatedly that I quietly appended 'all night' on the end there.

"William..."

"Sorry, it just slipped out." I sigh in relief when she replaces her hand, and then my eyes roll back in my head when she starts running her fingers through my hair. I can hear her breathe in to say something several times, but she seems to change her mind. "Harry back yet?"

"No," she says, sighing a bit. "They sent all the students back inside before Champions came back from the Pitch."

"Any idea what it is yet?"

She snorts. "Ron kept going on about Quidditch, as if they were going to have a Seeker competition or something. Most people were talking about duels or an obstacle course of some kind, though, since supposedly they have the ground covered to hide what they're doing."

"What do you think?"

She bites her bottom lip. "I think I'll wait for Harry to tell us..."

"Really?" I'm surprised at first, but I realize she's not meeting my eyes. "What is it, Hermione?"

She looks around a moment, as if searching for an escape route. "Neville said...well, he wondered...joked really...he joked that it must be duels since that's what you've been training Harry for. Then Luna said you do seem to know the future sometimes."

I can't help but choke out a laugh.

"I know," she says, looking at me strangely.

"So what do you think?"

"I think I'm waiting for Harry," she says cryptically.

I smile, but inwardly I'm jumping for joy. I may have just gotten a free pass all the way up until the game drops. "No use speculating when we'll find out soon enough, eh?"

She stands up and paces for a few laps running her fingers through her hair, then turns and looks hard at me. "Is it dueling, William?"

Thankfully I'm saved from answering by the door bursting open to admit a frantic Ron. "Harry's back! Something's happened!"

Hermione jumps at the sudden sound and starts for the door, but Neville ushers Harry in before she gets there and quickly closes the door behind them.

"Harry!" Hermione cries, forgetting about her inquisition.

"Crouch was..." Harry stops and shivers slightly at the memory. "He was attacked..."

Hermione makes him go back through events from the beginning, and shoots me a surprised look when Harry explains the maze.

"Damn, I thought I had it figured out," I say with a grim smile.

At Harry's confused look she waved him on. "Oh, William just thought it would be dueling," she says quickly. When he continued she offered suggestions on who was responsible but not coming to any kind of conclusion. None of them think it was Viktor, but their best guess – Karkaroff – was not likely to have risked injuring his own, hand-picked Champion.

I'm not surprised when the mention of Moody comes, and I'm pleased to note that it goes without comment. One month left to keep my secret.

* * *

I continue to busy myself with carving, and with a spike of concern about my magical reserves I start carving both the wooden frames and some new shield runestones with my magic. Since that doesn't involve normal magic, it drains my reserves heavily, leaving my stomach painfully twisted almost constantly even though I make seemingly little progress. Coincidentally a day later I figure out that doing this just before I go to sleep – the best time to put myself to work while nobody else notices – leaves me exhausted enough that I fall asleep faster.

Unfortunately my nightmares still prevent me from getting a full night's sleep. I'm practically asleep in the common room after Arithmancy that Monday when Ron evokes a strong sense of déjà vu by once again barging in full speed. "Hermione! William! Harry is—he—!"

What the hell? I don't remember this! I barely finish that thought before I'm up and charging toward the exit, while Hermione's already blown past Ron. The lanky redhead ducks out of my way just as he calls out loud enough for Hermione. "Headmaster's office!"

I take the stairs three at a time, quickly making up ground on Hermione, not bothering to look back and make sure Ron is following. She might have me through quick turns in the corridors but my longer legs eat up stairs and straightaways quickly enough that I pull up just behind her. I don't pass because she knows the way better than I do. "Can we get in?"

"I don't know," she says, turning a corner too fast for me. I slide into the far wall, rolling through the impact, and continue after her. She reaches the entrance just as the gargoyle guardian steps aside, but she skids to a stop when Dumbledore, the Moody impostor, and Cornelius Fudge exit. "Professor Dumbledore," she says breathlessly.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Lerner," he says with his grandfatherly smile. It seems odd for him to do that as he's on his way to investigate Crouch Sr.'s disappearance. "I might have expected you would both be here."

Hermione barely lets him finish. "Where's—?"

"Mr. Potter is currently enjoying the calming ministrations of Fawkes, Ms. Granger," he says softly. "I shall return him to you in good health and in short order, I assure you."

"Ms. Granger and Mr. Lerner is it?" Fudge's smooth voice somehow grates on me, and the look he gives the two of us doesn't help. "I read about the two of you, of course."

"We have better things to do than discuss stupid rumors, Minister," Moody/Crouch growls.

"O-of course," Fudge says uneasily. He's probably just as frightened by the grizzled Auror as I am, though I have a better reason to be.

"But headmaster, sir," Hermione pleads.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, I really am, but I must insist." Dumbledore looks at me with the unspoken request to calm her. I quickly look away...knowing that Crouch Jr. is nearby, I don't trust my voice or my thoughts.

"Yes, we've dallied enough, Albus," Fudge says, briefly lifting his hat at us. "Good day."

He walks away and Moody immediately clomps after him. "My apologies, Ms. Granger, Mr. Lerner. Perhaps you should have some dinner and come back?"

I recall Harry getting into a Pensieve and seeing Karkaroff name Barty Crouch, Jr. as a Death Eater, and it occurs to me that this is must be when it happens. I don't remember why he was there in the first place, though. "Very well, headmaster," I say quietly.

"Very good, Mr. Lerner," Dumbledore says with a small smile. "My apologies again, Ms. Granger, but if you'll excuse me I must catch them up." The headmaster sweeps away with his cloak billowing behind him, and I look over to find a rather unhappy Hermione rounding on me.

"Why did you let him go? He could have let us up first! We need to see Harry!"

I look down apologetically. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sure Harry is fine...everything I know about Dumbledore tells me he has a reason for leaving Harry in there alone, and he wouldn't be there alone if the headmaster thought he needed someone else." The explanation rings hollow, considering Dumbledore left Harry alone at the Dursleys with no contact after Sirius died.

"That doesn't mean it's a good reason!"

"No, it doesn't," I agree. "But honestly, can you imagine him changing his mind if he thinks it's best?"

She growls in frustration. "I know you're right, but it doesn't make it any easier."

"If you're that set on it, we could see how resistant Mr. Gargoyle is to the Reductor Curse," I offer. My magical reserves still aren't completely recovered from the morning carving session, but I could still bring a couple Harry-sized Reductors to bear.

She gasps. "No! No, that's...that's okay." Apparently the thought of destroying school property is enough to bring her down from her frustrated anger.

I manage to coax her down to the Great Hall for dinner, though she just wolfs down a bit of food and then nags me to hurry up. It certainly doesn't help that I need plenty of food to help counteract the now-perpetual deficiency from my magic reserves. While I eat, I ponder over the mystery of what could have happened. After a few minutes of frustration compounded by Hermione's nagging, it hits me: the visions from Voldemort. I know he had them during Fourth Year, but I don't remember when. But why would the headmaster feel the need to leave Harry alone? That question gets me eating faster. Within twenty minutes we're back to camping out in front of the gargoyle. Well, I'm camping out by sitting down, leaning against the wall. Hermione is pacing.

"Why didn't Ron come with us?" I figure I should try to distract her.

Thankfully that's apparently puzzling enough to get her to stop and think about it. "I don't know, maybe he went to tell Neville, and they went to get Luna."

It occurs to me that I didn't even look around while we were eating. "None of them were at dinner, were they?"

"No," she says. "Daphne was, though."

"Yes, I was," the Slytherin in question announces, walking up to us slowly. "You've made yourself scarce lately, William."

"Sorry, Daph," I say with a grimace. "Lot on my mind."

"So it's nearly time, then," she says softly.

I furrow my brow in confusion at her vague statement until Hermione whips her head around at me. A wave of nausea sweeps over me when I remember what I told her all that time ago.

"What does she mean, William?" Hermione's equally soft voice fills me with dread.

I try to break through my frozen thought process to answer, but before I come up with anything, Daphne cuts in.

"William thinks—"

An echo of the familiar clomping of Moody's wooden leg reaches our ears, and thankfully Daphne clamps up. Hermione's look of suspicion makes me realize I need to address this as soon as possible. Luckily the sound is far enough away that I've got time for a quick explanation, so I put up a privacy bubble and take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts.

"I'm scared, Hermione...the Triwizard Tournament is coming to a close and we still haven't caught the one who put Harry's name in," I say, looking down. But I'm secretly proud of my truthful wording, since I very easily could have lied and said I don't know who did it. "I have a bad feeling he'll act soon, so I've been sleeping horribly...waking up at every little sound, trying to keep an eye on Harry." I'm getting freakishly good at telling the truth but hiding information. Maybe I should apprentice with Dumbledore.

Hermione pales, and I give her a brief moment to respond. When she doesn't I quickly drop the bubble to find that the clomping has actually faded away. I freeze in fear for a moment at the thought that he somehow got behind me, but shortly afterward the headmaster rounds a corner by himself. Of course, Moody/Crouch probably went to his own office.

"That's why you look so tired all the time," Hermione whispers, then she turns to follow my eyes.

Since she's no longer facing me I place my hand on her shoulder and give her a comforting squeeze.

"Hello again, Ms. Granger, Mr. Lerner," the headmaster says jovially. "I see you've brought reinforcements to ensure Mr. Potter's health. Good evening, Ms. Greengrass." The three of us return his greeting with various degrees of warmth. Unsurprisingly mine is the warmest, even though I have a feeling I know what's coming. "I'm afraid I must impose upon Mr. Potter's time a bit further. I would like to speak with him alone for a brief time, and then I shall return him to you."

Hermione once again jumps on him. "But, sir! He's going to share with us anyway!" I'm tempted to step in and calm her down again, but truthfully I wouldn't mind seeing the Pensieve.

Dumbledore glances with surprise at Daphne. "She knows everything," Hermione says quickly. Not strictly true, but she knows enough.

When the headmaster doesn't respond except to look back and forth, I put my arm around her and am slightly impressed that she doesn't flinch or stiffen. "Harry trusts her."

I feel the headmaster's eyes on me but I keep them on Daphne's, silently willing her to continue looking at me so she's not vulnerable to any type of Legilimency. I really wish I could ask the headmaster to test it to see if I knew it was happening. This uncertainty is no fun at all.

"Indeed. Very well," Dumbledore acquiesces eventually. "But I may still need to speak with him alone for a brief time after you've verified his health, and he may want to do so as well. Will you allow us that privilege?"

"Of course, headmaster," Hermione says quickly. I nod in agreement.

"Cockroach cluster," Dumbledore says, and the gargoyle leaps aside.

We follow him in and I find my hypothesis verified: Harry is nowhere in sight, but the softly glowing stone bowl is visible in the open cabinet against the wall near the desk.

"Pardon me, I'll have to fetch him," Dumbledore says in an amused voice. "I'll be but a moment." He walks over and unceremoniously dips his face into the bowl, upon which he is swiftly sucked into the memory.

Hermione gasps. "Is that a Pensieve?"

"It is," Daphne says. "What's Harry doing in there?"

"Dumbledore must have told him about it," Hermione says.

The Slytherin folds her arms and raises an eyebrow. "While it's still in the cabinet?"

"I expect our Harry was a bit curious," I say.

"He was," one of the portraits says disdainfully.

Hermione whips her head around and gasps at the portraits of previous headmasters. At a glance most of them appear to be asleep, but I imagine they're faking. "Headmaster Black," Hermione says with a curtsey, "my name is Hermione Granger, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The portrait sniffs. "Likewise, I'm sure," he says in a tone that insinuated rather strongly that it was anything but. The former headmaster turns in his portrait to signify the end of the conversation.

I never did like that guy. I'm tempted to make a snide comment, but I'd rather not take the chance of making any unintended changes at this point. Luckily the choice is taken away from me when Harry and Dumbledore come swirling out of the Pensieve.

"Harry!" Hermione immediately wraps him in a tight hug, nearly tackling him to the floor in the process.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry says with a chuckle, "Professor Dumbledore warned me that I should be prepared for this."

"So you're okay? Nobody told us what was happening," she says. I realize that's true, but we also didn't ask. I have the excuse that I thought I knew what was happening, but why didn't Hermione think to ask?

Harry grimaces. "Just one of those dreams..."

Hermione gasps. "You fell asleep _in class_?"

He lets go and stares at her incredulously. "Well I can't exactly control when Voldemort sends me visions, now can I?"

She flinches back. "I-I'm sorry. I was...I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he says, waving it off, then he turns to me. "It's just my luck that I wasn't in bed; William's dream ward didn't have a chance to work."

Daphne gasps and snaps her wide-eyed gaze to me at the same time as Dumbledore turns his head slightly as if he misheard. "Pardon?"

"Oh, it was my Christmas present, sir," Harry explains. "He made me a dream ward, and I've been sleeping much better these past few months."

"You guys didn't tell me that," Daphne says, still staring at me incredulously.

The headmaster looks at me so intently that I immediately drop my gaze. "Indeed? I thought she knew everything."

"Well, Harry's sleeping issues are his business," I say softly.

"As well as those who used to be affected by them," he points out. "My roommates don't have to wake up and hit me with a Silencing Charm anymore." The girls look down in chagrin at that.

"I would be quite interested to see your handiwork, Mr. Lerner," Dumbledore says. "Now that you mention it I recall Professor Babbling bringing your project up in a staff meeting at the end of the year, but I don't think she expected you to complete it. Who charged it?"

"William did, sir," Hermione says proudly before I can think of a better answer. "He figured out how to charge them before Christmas."

My face heats up at the praise, and I hope it covers the terror that Dumbledore is going to discover my secrets.

"Indeed? I must reconsider my previous opinion, then, Mr. Lerner. I daresay your wandless abilities are further along than we suspected after the Second Task. We may have to give you special permission to enroll in the seventh year special elective next year, if you're amenable."

"Th-that would be great, sir," I stammer, thinking it would be anything but. I'd obviously have to hold myself back the whole time.

"A seventh year class as a fifth year," Hermione says excitedly, "that's wonderful, William!"

He chuckles. "I admire your enduring enthusiasm, Ms. Granger, but if you'll excuse Harry and me, there are a few more things we have yet to discuss before I accompany him to the safety of Mr. Lerner's ward."

Hermione looks like she wants to argue, but at Harry's encouragement the three of us exit.

"Hermione, you realize that class would probably be useless to William," Daphne says when we've exited. "I doubt any student is as advanced as he is."

"Oh," Hermione says, looking abashed. "Yeah, sorry, you're probably right."

"Well, since I developed it on my own, it might be good to see how it's formally taught," I point out. Hermione gives me a grateful smile.

"Ever the mediator," Daphne scoffs, but she gives a small smile to Hermione to let her know she's joking. "Well, I'm heading back to the dungeon," she says, then pokes me in the side, "and you, quit avoiding me."

"We'll walk you," Hermione offers quickly.

I overrule Daphne's objection. "No, no, we insist," I say, putting my arm around her shoulder. "After all, I miss you, too, my sweet—"

Hermione laughs when the other girl's elbow hits me in the kidney.

* * *

A/N:

Phew, another close call or three. And William's got a plan? Everybody run!

Harry's vision in Divination is indeed canon. And yes, I looked it up, the password at this exact moment (unless Dumbledore changed it after Harry guessed it when he came here), is indeed 'cockroach cluster.'

R & R, C & C.


	25. Chapter 25: Final Preparations

Disclaimer: JK Rowling laughs when fools who try to claim ownership of the Harry Potter universe get kidney-punched.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Final Preparations**

The excitement of the headmaster's visit to Gryffindor Tower had apparently buried lingering concerns Hermione may have had about the revelations Daphne had let slip. It's not her fault that she let it slip, of course, since to her it's a reasonable assumption that Hermione would know what Daphne does. Especially since so much time had gone by since I let that little tidbit slip before the First Task. Regardless, I let out a mental breath every day that goes by where Hermione doesn't try to call me on it. In the run-up to the Final Task, I make my final preparations in secret. I convince our original workout group, sans Tracey and Blaise, to once again meet in the Room of Requirement. Ostensibly this is for maze training, but I still insist that our Shielding game is useful.

In reality, I'm training to fight in the graveyard.

After some deliberation on who to contact for certain parts of the plan, I send an urgent message to Mr. Delacour that says I need to meet him in Hogsmeade as soon as possible. I decide to wait until after that meeting to send a message to Sirius and Remus, but they actually beat me to the punch.

"It's from Moony," Harry says excitedly one day at breakfast. Hermione and I jerk at that, and he passes it to her. Her squeal and hug give away the likely contents, but just to make sure I quickly snatch it from the table in front of her.

_Harry and friends,_

_It took some shopping around and we got a little sick from it, but you'll be most pleased to know that we have gathered three of the more rare chocolate frog cards you were missing. After we received the fourth rare one you got there, we had a huge bonfire to celebrate! We're at home now doing some light reading, though we're still arguing over which novel is the best._

_Padfoot says he's sorry he can't make it himself, but I'm planning on bringing Snuffles to the Third Task. He suggested perhaps an earlier meeting the weekend before might be possible, so let me know. If not, Harry, then good luck and, more importantly, be careful!_

_Moony_

"That's excellent," I say, trying to keep my voice down even though my heart immediately feels lighter at one part of the plan coming through. It sounds like they had some trouble, but I was dreading the very real possibilities of either hearing some bad news from one of them, or worse, not hearing from either of them ever again.

Now, if only Remus and Sirius or the Delacours would come through...

"We should send Moony to Egypt," I say.

Hermione makes a face. "They just got home, why would you want to send him out again already?"

Damn, they don't know the time crunch we're under. Do I risk sending Bill a letter myself? If it gets intercepted then it's best that I send it as late as possible, but if I actually want to act on any information he has, then it's best to do it sooner. Damn it! Why didn't I take care of this back when I thought of it at Christmas time? It slipped my mind with the Ball and Christmas presents. I could try to go to him, but I have no idea how I'd get there without somebody's help. The Delacours, maybe?

"I know that look," Hermione says bossily. "You aren't really considering asking him to go already, are you?"

"Not anymore, I suppose," I say truthfully.

"Good, because they deserve a rest," she says with a firm nod. "You shouldn't have sent them after those dangerous things in the first place, you know."

"Hermione, it worked out," Harry says in my defense.

"This time," she retorts.

"She's right, Harry, I'm asking too much of them," I say.

He looks at me oddly. "If you say so."

I grunt and go back to my ruminations. Would Ron know how to get a hold of him? Probably not directly, he'd probably have to owl his mother or father. The twins are more independent, they'd be fine with just the occasional owl. But what about Ginny? Bill's her favorite brother! She has to have a way to contact him better than an owl, doesn't she? I glance around and find my target chatting away with several of the younger Gryffindors. I wonder why they never name any of them in canon? I mark her spot and plan to approach her when she leaves.

"Yes, I suppose Ginny might know how to get in touch with Bill," Hermione says, and I turn to see her smirking.

"Hermione Granger," I say with mock outrage, "are you spying on me?"

"Oh please," she scoffs, "I can read you like a book, what makes you think I need to do any spying?"

"Challenge accepted," I say with a grin, "so what am I thinking right now?"

She blushes. "William!"

Harry laughs. "Oh come on, Will, even I could have guessed that one."

I scoff. "Not fair, you guys just know me too well."

"_Too_ well, yes, that's exactly it," Hermione says, shaking her head but smiling playfully.

"Must be," I agree, "I mean, how else would you know I'm wondering how the weather is going to be this weekend?"

* * *

"Pardon me, Ms. Weasley, could I have a word? It will only take a moment."

The poor girl jumps when I speak and whips her head around, flaring out her bright reddish-orange hair. "Um, sure," she says nervously, causing the other girls to giggle and walk away after sharing some teasing looks. I sigh inwardly. Girls.

"We've never been formally introduced," I start out, hoping to put her at ease before asking such a personal question. "I'm William Lerner. I realize you have a brother with the same name that goes by Bill, so please call me William or Will."

"Okay," she says noncommittally.

I resist the urge to frown...obviously she is not impressed. I start walking down a corridor that doesn't lead up to Gryffindor Tower, so we won't run into as many people. "You know, Harry has told me a lot about your family. Ron, too, of course, but Harry really loves you guys." I pause and look back to see her following, face sporting a blush redder than her hair. "Even though I haven't met all of you, I can see what he's talking about. I mean, I've never even seen your mother and she knitted a wonderful sweater for me just like Harry."

"I saw you both wearing it all the time," she says with a warming smile, but then she blushes again and looks away as if she's embarrassed that she made those observations.

I chuckle. "I love it, and I know Harry does, too. He showed me his collection." Her lips part in surprise, but I let my smile fade. "When his name came out of the Goblet and Ron got mad at him, Harry was hurt pretty bad by that. He told Hermione and I that he'd trade everything for a family like Ron's."

Her face grows darker when I mention Harry being hurt. "That bloody jealous prat," she growls.

"Ron came to his senses eventually," I say waving the topic away. "I'm getting off-track, sorry. Two of my other Christmas presents were partially picked out by your brother Bill, because I'm interested in Runes and warding. So I was wondering, do you have a way to contact him other than the usual owl?"

"I wish I did," she says with a frown, but then her face lights up. "Actually, he's coming here to watch the end of the Tournament! I'm sure he'd speak to you then."

"That's great!" I don't have to feign surprise or excitement here; I'm sure it happened but I certainly don't remember. This adds some possibilities... "Is he going to come back early at all?"

"He told me he took the whole week off, so he'll probably be home that Saturday," she says.

Will that be enough time to act on any information he might have? I don't know – I guess it depends on what, if anything, he knows – but it's definitely worth a shot. "That's great," I say again. "Thank you so much, Gin—I mean Ms. Weasley. I need to send him an owl."

"Oh, sorry," she says blushing, "you can call me Ginny."

I smile. "Well thank you, Ginny," I say, starting to turn away. "I'll see you—"

"Um," she says quickly before I can walk away. I turn back and look at her expectantly. "Is...is Harry...okay? With the Tournament and everything..."

I lift my eyebrows at that. A lot of fanfiction authors give Ginny crap – granted I'm not a fan of canon pairings so I tend to stay away from those – but I can see she genuinely does care about him. I guess it'd be kind of difficult not to, since he quite literally sacrificed himself to save her...it was only through Fawkes' intervention that Harry even lived. I smile sadly. "He seems to be fine...either he's a lot better at hiding his emotions than I think he is or I'm more frightened than he is." I'm quite sure it's the latter, personally.

She smiles and shakes her head. "I don't know how he does it. Anybody else would..." She trails off and looks sad.

I nod. "He does get into his fair share of scrapes, usually against his will, doesn't he?"

Turns out that is exactly the wrong thing to say to Ginny, because her hands quickly cover her crumpling face.

"Hey, no, no, no," I say quickly, wrapping her in a hug. "Shh, I'm sorry, Ginny, I didn't mean it like that. The diary...that was not your fault." She gasps and looks up at me. "It's okay," I say with a reassuring smile. "I know all about it, and I also know that nobody blames you one bit. Harry certainly doesn't, Hermione doesn't, Ron doesn't..."

"I-I know, it's just...I just wish..." her face drops again.

"That it would go away?" I try to speak as softly and as comfortingly as I can. I really do wonder if they ever sent her to whatever the magical equivalent of a Muggle psychiatrist is. I wouldn't be surprised at all if she had some measure of post-traumatic stress issues. I am woefully unqualified for this, but I rub her back slowly anyway.

After a few moments she gently pushes away. "I'm sorry," she says, then lets out a growl of frustration as she wipes her eyes. "I shouldn't have...I mean, you hardly know me, and now you probably think...ugh, I'm such a mess!"

I shake my head. "No, you're strong, Ginny. Nobody should have to go what you went through, and the fact that you're here and can act normally...well, I only wish I could be as strong as you." Maybe then I wouldn't let the fear of what's to come get to me so much.

Her jaw drops at my proclamation. "You...you mean it?"

"Absolutely," I say firmly.

"But you...the Second Task..." She blushes and gives me a small smile for the first time. "You're a lot like him, you know...my brother. Same first name, same interests...same way of making me feel better. Thank you for that."

"It's my pleasure," I say, returning the smile. "So does this mean I get to be your honorary fourth or fifth brother around here?"

"Oh, Merlin! The last thing I need is another big brother to watch over me," she says with a laugh. "I'm trying to get rid of them as it is."

I laugh too. "Fair enough, fair enough. I should let you get back to your friends, though. Who knows what rumors are flying around here, now."

Her laugh quickly cuts off as her eyes bulge. "Oh...oh yeah, the rumors," she looks at me askance. "You're not what I expected from those, by the way."

"Oh?"

She blushes. "Well, I guess I didn't know what to expect," she says quickly. "The rumors are quite varied."

"Well, if you'd like to start cycling through them I can try to meet your expectations," I say with a grin. "Am I a dashing rogue?" I push out a stream of magic and snap my fingers, conjuring a rose. "Milady," I say with a bow.

"Ah, there's one of them," she says with a laugh. "From what I've seen so far, though, somehow I doubt you could pull off brooding and serious. That's a more recent one."

"Alas, I have filled my quota for the week on that account," I say, smile fading.

She presses her lips together in consternation. "Sorry, that was stupid of me...anyway," she says quickly, "you're right that I should head back. Thanks for this, I enjoyed speaking with you, William."

My smile returns though it is slightly forced. "Me, too. I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other sooner."

She smiles brightly at that. "Me, too, but we can change that now. See you."

"See ya," I say, smile fading the rest of the way when she turns her back. I think to myself that I really do hope we can.

* * *

The next weekend I once again make excuses to miss the mass training session to go off on my own. I have a ready-made excuse to miss them with the core group since I don't want everybody to see what I can do. On the other hand, any time I sneak around the castle without Harry's sneaking tools, my heart tries to jackhammer its way out of my ribcage. I halt my morning carving shortly after I start when it occurs to me that I need my magic for something else. Foresight is awesome.

"Alone again, mudblood?" A high, cruel voice says from behind me.

I freeze a moment, worried that they know I'm headed to the statue of the humpback, which is just around the next corner. But I let out a relieved breath when I turn and see it's only the usual gang of Slytherins, who had apparently followed me from one of the common intersections. Pansy Parkinson is the one who spoke, and Draco looks decidedly uncomfortable. Apparently he advised against this. Daphne isn't with them since she and Astoria went to train with Harry and Hermione, but Blaise and Tracey are both present.

"Parkinson," Blaise says, shocking both me and the rest of the Slytherins. "This is unwise."

Pansy's mouth drops open. "Not you, too, Zabini!"

"I have seen what he can do," he says evenly. "And he always held back."

"_What_?" Tracey blurts out.

"Just because you acted like a blood traitor..." she spits, and Blaise's eyes darken in anger.

"Acted, Parkinson. Acted." He turns his hard look to me. I pull out two shield runestones to show him, and he lets out an amused breath. "Unless you can cast a Killing Curse, this is a waste of time."

"_But he's a_ _mudblood_," she shrieks.

"Explain, Blaise," Draco says, breaking his silence for the first time. His voice lacks the usual air of superiority.

He quickly whips out his wand, but with my hand already on the runic shields, the shimmering blue bubble spring to life well in advance of his first spell. "_Stupefy! Reducto! Confringo! Stupefy!_" The red, blue, purple, and red spells sizzle and pop as they splash against my shield and dissipate harmlessly. I assume he was purposely not casting them perfectly since my shield is only depleted maybe an eighth of the way, if that. After he puts his wand away, I drop the shield and note the looks of surprise or fear on the others. Several of them had backed away from the impromptu battle. Tracey looks angry at him, but he either ignores her or doesn't notice. "It took Greengrass over a dozen of her strongest Stunners to deplete the shields he makes with those ward stones," Blaise says as if he hadn't just attacked me, "and she's stronger than I am."

"But—" Pansy sputters.

"And unless you can cast silently," Blaise continues smoothly over her objections, "he'll have it up in time – even if your wand is already up – since he doesn't need one to activate it. He charges them beforehand so it doesn't tire him out, and he's got at least two, probably more hidden away. He can hold Stunners in both hands wandlessly and replace them instantly, too, so go ahead and attack him physically if you're stupid." Most of the others are goggling at Blaise, who probably has never spoken this much at once. "And that doesn't even cover whatever he did at the Second Task. So, like I said," he drawls, "this is a waste of time."

"You are divulging all of my secrets, Mr. Zabini," I say, my face heating at the praise.

He scoffs and turns, walking away. Tracey shoots me an apologetic look and I give her a small smile to let her know it's okay before she takes off after him. Draco stares at me, expressionless, for several moments before he grunts and follows as well, which means his two ogres are close behind.

"Why do you do this, Ms. Parkinson?" I ask quietly, trying to avoid a confrontational tone.

She scowls at me and walks away without answering, leading away the last of the Slytherins.

I watch them disappear from sight and listen quietly for any other intruders, but I hear nothing. Satisfied that I am alone, I dash around the corner, quietly supply the password to the humpbacked statue, and slide through. Once it closes I breathe much easier despite the small passage. It's one thing to fend off Stunners, but blocking spells that could have killed me is another matter altogether. I'll have to thank Blaise later for helping me prepare in a way that I hadn't considered. It takes several minutes before I calm down enough to stand back up.

Since I had been having such an easy time of it lately it never even occurred to me to try Disillusionment. Since I'm alone I push out a stream of magic and, although it shouldn't be necessary with my kind of magic, I touch the top of my head with the intent of making myself invisible. I shiver when I feel the sensation of a large egg cracking over my head and then having the effect pour down my body. Before the sensation even reaches my elbows I feel the need to push out more magic. As my hand and then my fingers become transparent, I grow increasingly concerned about how much energy it's taking. But I keep going, if only to measure how much magic it takes. Thankfully it goes rather quickly once it passes my fingers and only the bottom two-thirds of my legs are left.

Over half my magic gone to make myself invisible. I must be doing it wrong, but at least it doesn't take any magic to maintain it. Deciding to leave it on, I make my way down the passage and out through Honeydukes. As usual it's not terribly busy, so it's easy to make it out onto the street. Not wanting to chance being spotted somehow, I duck between two buildings and cancel it. Thankfully this takes no more energy than a simple _finite_. Then I lengthen my hair and turn it blonde. I can't exactly hide my student robes, but I'd rather have some kind of disguise just in case.

Exiting the alley I make my way to the Three Broomsticks, my bearing regal as if I belong there. I wonder if I look like a Malfoy to anyone else. Entering the pub my eyes easily pick out the long, light brown hair of Guillaume Delacour, facing the door. Idly it just occurs to me that Guillaume is the French version of William.

He's still watching the door as I approach him. "Good afternoon, Mr. Delacour," I say quietly.

He opens his mouth to reply but does a double take and smiles when he realizes it's me. "Ah, of course, _monsieur_. Good afternoon, indeed. My dear wife sends her regards and her regrets that she could not join us. Shall we retire to my room?"

"Lead the way, sir," I say with a short bow.

Once our room is secure, he looks at me curiously. "I didn't expect you to come alone," he says.

I grimace slightly. "Yes, well, I'm working on something on my own. But first, what of the Horcrux removal process?"

Now it's his turn to grimace. "Nothing solid. My lady wife has made some discreet inquiries, but nobody seems to know how to destroy a Horcrux without destroying the living vessel. We had discussed trying to use a dementor, but obviously that is far too dangerous."

I frown but nod. "I expected as much. You may stop looking unless you are curious yourself, because I have a different request. I have nobody else I can trust with it but you and your wife."

He looks at me warily. "My daughter's Debt?"

"If you procure me the items I ask for, it is discharged completely and without reservation," I say.

After some moments, he nods curtly. "And the items?"

I take a deep breath...here goes nothing. "This doesn't leave the room except if you need or want your wife to help. I need two sets of items. First, I need portkeys that can carry several people. Four portkeys would suffice, but I wouldn't say no to six."

He seems to have an internal battle, then, "why, if I may?"

"A rescue operation," I say vaguely. "All portkeys must target approximately the same location."

The question in his eyes is obvious.

"Again, this must not leave this room except for your wife. I expect you don't know where it is, so I imagine you'll have to go there in order to make them."

"Make them myself? But it is an involved process and I am not authorized..."

I frown. "Can you get in trouble for making them, or is it only the ones who use it?"

"The ones who use it," he says, "so when you—"

"Then it's fine," I say, holding up a hand. "That will not be a problem."

"If you're sure...may I have my daughter make them, to make sure the Debt is satisfied?

I consider that, and I figure it can't hurt as long as Fleur keeps the destination secret and doesn't know what they're for. "Of course, as long as you can arrange for her to accompany you and she maintains our confidence."

"She will, I know it...thank you," he says with obvious relief. "So what's the location?"

I take a deep breath and drop my gaze. "Little Hangleton..." I say, then I look up at him seriously, "...graveyard."

He pales at that, even though I'm sure he doesn't understand the significance. "And the other set of items—?"

I take another deep breath, because this one is going to be even harder to explain.

* * *

The growing fear from the inexorable march toward the Final Task is partially offset by more and more elements of my plans falling into place. It also helps that I'm exhausted most of the time, since, taking Hermione's advice, we've really ramped up physical training. I've finished my wood carving so now I'm stockpiling shields and lanterns, which I figure I'll distribute with the portkeys, just in case. It only takes me two days to carve and charge each one, now. The very next weekend I'm able to slip back down to Hogsmeade to retrieve the items that Mr. Delacour procured for me. I thank him profusely and say that he may consider the Life Debt discharged, but he insists that, while he will no longer drop everything to attend me, as long as I'm helping Harry in his fight against Voldemort, he would help me.

Both there and back I forgo the Disillusionment since it takes too much out of me, but I make it there and back unmolested. A group of older Slytherins see me but barely spare me a glance. It occurs to me that I've never seen or heard of the older ones doing much in the way of bullying except for Marcus Flint, and I don't think he's here anymore. Once I'm inside the castle, I duck into an empty classroom and close the door. I don't really need to do this, but with the next weekend being the one where I'm meeting with Bill, I feel like I'm out of time even though I could do this at any time in the next week. "Dobby?"

A soft pop mere moments later echoes off the bare stone walls. "You called for Dobby, Master Harry Potter's Lerny?"

"I did indeed, Master Elf," I say with a small bow.

His near orgasmic moan makes me flinch away. "You is a great not-wizard, Harry Potter's Lerny, sir, to treat Dobby with such respect."

"Of course, Dobby," I say more informally, hoping to a repeat of the rather uncomfortable situation when I use too much flattery. "How are you doing this weekend?"

Unfortunately for me, asking after a House Elf's welfare amounts to much the same thing.

"That's wonderful, Dobby," I say quickly, stemming the tide of compliments before he starts crying too much. "I was just curious to see if you would be willing to deliver a few packages for me and Harry at a later date," I say. He starts nodding vigorously well before I finish, though his face falls dramatically when the 'later date' bit comes up. "Most are just to other students, but the furthest one is another package to Harry's godfather and the former professor, and if it's possible I'll need you to take them as soon as possible after Harry or I give you a signal. I can let you know what that signal is later. Does that sound possible?"

"Oh yes, Great Master Harry Potter's Lerny, Dobby will be very fast in delivering Harry Potter's important packages," he says, bouncing up and down.

"Excellent, Dobby, thank you very much. I'll call you in another week or so..." I begin to dismiss him, but I trail off as a flash of inspiration strikes me. "Actually, there is one other thing, Dobby." His comically large eyes widen further, so I quickly continue. "Can you get me a time turner?"

My mind breezes through possibilities as soon as it occurs to me, including a quick dismissal of trying to imitate the effect with my own magic on account of the fact that it sounds like one of those ideas that seems great up until the execution of it unmakes the universe. Mentally I file the idea right ahead of the one where I transfigure something into antimatter in the folder of ideas to avoid without speaking to somebody way smarter than me first. Unfortunately for me, Dobby can't get me a time turner. Fortunately for him, though, I'm not too caught up in my imaginings to catch him and dismiss him before he slams his head against the wall more than twice.

* * *

"I thought I might find you here," Daphne says as Harry, Hermione, and I round a corner on our way to the statue of the humpback. She's leaning against the wall with an eyebrow raised at me. "Tracey said you've been coming through here the past two weekends, William."

My face heats as Harry and Hermione whip their heads around to face me. "Other preparations," I say, trying to hide my nerves and hope they drop it. Hermione's face, which I can see peripherally, disabuses me of that notion, however. I keep talking, hoping to stall enough that I can avoid the interrogation entirely. "Are you...would you like to come with us?"

"I am going with you," she says firmly, as if I'd never invited her.

"You know you're going to learn things—" I begin.

"I am going with you," she repeats.

"I'm okay with it, Will," Harry says.

"She has earned the right to know," Hermione adds, "and since Harry's okay with it..."

"Oh I agree," I say quickly, "I was just making sure." The determination on Daphne's face is clear enough, but she had avoided it thus far...

"Good, now come on, we're going to be late as it is," Harry says, thankfully forestalling any attempts at interrogation.

Daphne raises an eyebrow at me in challenge as Harry and Hermione take the lead, as if I'd try to get in the way of that freight train now. I just give her a small smile and move to follow. She looks surprised for a moment, but she quickly schools her expression blank and falls in next to me and threads her arm through mine. I realize belatedly that she expected me to offer her my arm. "You're getting worse," she whispers softly enough that Harry and Hermione can't hear.

Startled, I quickly turn toward her to see her looking back in concern. I let my gaze drop again in embarrassment, giving a quick nod.

"_Dissendium_," I hear Harry say, startling me that we're already there.

Daphne also gives a little jump, probably at seeing the hump turn away to reveal a hidden passage for the first time.

When we file in and the entrance closes I fire up one of my lantern runestones to find the other three staring at me. Hermione steps closer. "Why have you been going to Hogsmeade every weekend, William?" Damn, so much for avoiding the questions.

"So that's how you did it," Daphne mutters to herself, perhaps thinking of the time the three of us Gryffindors went to meet her parents.

"I met Mr. Delacour both times," I say, looking back and forth between them, "to call in his daughter's Life Debt."

Daphne gasps and Harry and Hermione's eyes bulge. The latter sucks in a breath as well, then steps forward again. "What have you done, William?"

"I thought they were already helping us," Harry says.

"They were trying," I say, "but they were unsuccessful. I came up with an alternative way to handle it."

Hermione instantly attaches herself to Harry's side. "How are you handling it, then?"

"The repayment of a Life Debt is a matter between the two parties, Hermione," Daphne chides.

"Thanks, Daph," I say, "but you'll all find out more on Thursday, I promise."

"You can't leave us hanging like that," Hermione whines.

"Sorry, my dear," I say, happy that Daphne came to my rescue, "but if you think about it we're leaving poor Daphne hanging right now."

Hermione mock glares at the other girl, who mock glares at me. "Don't think you can use me to weasel out of anything, Lerner," she says, poking me in the ribs.

That reminds me too much of our discussion before the Yule Ball about using her to keep my distance from Hermione. I clear my throat and the others sense the shift in mood as well.

"Well, best not to keep our host waiting," Harry says softly.

A round of nods and we make our way down the passage in silence, lit by Harry's wand from the front and my runic lantern from behind.

Finally after some time, Daphne clears her throat to break the silence. "How long have you guys known about this?"

"Since last year," Hermione answers, "the Weasley twins have known about it for longer, though."

"Thanks to my father," Harry says softly, causing Daphne to stiffen. "We're here. Do you want to come under the Cloak with us, Daphne, or do you want William to give you a disguise?"

She looks back at me just as my hair finishes lengthening and turning blonde, and I give her a grin.

"Ugh, you look like a Malfoy," she says, her face sour.

"Oh no, don't say that," Hermione says, slapping her hand to her forehead.

I bark out a laugh before I can twist my expression into a sneer. "Thanks, Daph. So what do you think about a cute, brown pixie cut?"

"What's a pixie cut?" Harry asks me with a confused look.

"I have no idea, actually, I just heard it once," I say. "I'm just thinking shorter brown hair."

Daphne unconsciously caresses her long raven-black locks. "Why not blonde?"

"Because I prefer dark-haired women," I say with a smile.

"That's a very valid point, there, Will," Harry says sagely. "I vote brown."

"Well there we are, my vote counts twice so the motion for brown carries." I pound my fist into my open palm like a gavel.

"Why does your vote—" Hermione begins, but she's cut off by Daphne's hair turning brown and shortening to a similar length as mine. She grabs at it as it shortens as if to stop the process.

"Wow, this is...light," she says finally.

I inspect it from several angles. "It looks pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"I think you have a fine career as a hairdresser ahead of you, Will," Harry puts in.

"I hate you," Hermione says. I notice I'm not the only one who does a double take, so she explains, "you shouldn't look that good without your usual hair."

Daphne blushes at the other girl's compliment and looks down. "Hermione," she grumbles in embarrassment.

Harry clears his throat after a few moments, probably clearing some inappropriate thoughts from his mind at the same time...not that I'm projecting or anything. "Right, well, let's go." He throws the Invisibility Cloak over himself and Hermione, which gets a pair of raised eyebrows from Daphne but no further comment. Harry heads out the trap door, then taps it softly to let us know we're okay to move. Once again we exit Honeydukes without incident, upon which I take Daphne's arm as we stroll lazily to The Three Broomsticks.

She accepts it with no comment, and I'm surprised when she leans into me to sell the boyfriend/girlfriend cover that we didn't even discuss. I open the door and stand aside until I feel Harry or Hermione brush against my hand, and then I guide Daphne in, in front of me.

Bill Weasley's red pony tail is quite easy to spot, and just like Mr. Delacour he only gives us a cursory glance before returning to his drink.

"Good day, Mr. Weasley," I say formally, giving him a short bow. "I thank you for agreeing to meet with us, and I'd also like to thank you for the robes you allowed me to borrow at the beginning of the year. Shall we retire to our private room for full introductions and idle discussion?"

He cocks his head back in surprise at the same time as Daphne. I'm sure I told her about borrowing robes before, so I wonder if she didn't believe me. "Is...everybody here?"

"We feel it's safer to...conceal our identities," Daphne says slowly, then continues in a lower voice, "even though his accent sort of gives it away."

"I do enjoy my games, my dear," I say.

"Very good," Bill says, standing up. He's actually got an inch or two on me, which is an uncommon occurrence. "Follow me, then."

We enter a different private room than before, which I realize might be kind of nice considering how much I'm using their rooms these days. I immediately set to work locking the windows, and I turn to see Bill's eyebrows raised in surprise both at me and at Harry and Hermione appearing from under the Cloak. The final step is a large Privacy bubble around the five of us.

Bill whistles at my handiwork. "I can't say I expected this," he says, looking at me, "are you any relation to Alastor Moody?"

"Constant vigilance!" I clap really loudly to punctuate it.

"He's our Defense professor," Hermione says as the rest of us laugh.

"I'm William Lerner," I say, holding out my hand, "and you've already met my lovely lady friend—"

"Daphne Greengrass," she cuts in, jabbing me in the ribs. "Not his lady friend."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," he says, shaking our hands without a flinch at Daphne's Slytherin robes.

"Sorry Daph," I say after I've jumped away and rubbed my side. "I forgot we weren't in character anymore."

"If that line didn't work with me, it's definitely not going to work with her," Hermione says with a laugh. "It's good to see you again, Bill."

"I wish I could say this meeting would be a little less dire than our last meeting at the World Cup," Harry says, "but it is nice to see you again."

"That bad, huh? I guess you've got quite a story to tell this year," he says, glancing at Daphne.

"It has been a busy one," Harry says, looking at me. "Business before pleasure?"

"I'm okay with that," Bill puts in, and I note the other three students looking at me expectantly.

"Very well," I say slowly, then look up to meet his eyes. "What do you know about Horcruxes? Specifically, I want to know if there is a way to remove the soul fragment from the vessel without damaging the vessel in any way."

The blood drains from his face instantly. "How do you know about those?"

I look at Daphne and see the same horrified expression. I slowly lift my arm to point at Harry without taking my eyes off her, though I can see Hermione tighten her grip on his arm. "Because he is one."

Silence reigns for several long moments.

"Bloody hell," Bill says finally. "Bloody fucking hell."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," I say.

Some thoughts appear to be churning in Daphne's brain and she doesn't appear to like them. Harry stands stoically while Hermione has her head against his shoulder, facing away from the rest of us.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Harry, I don't know," he says after a few more moments. "I've only heard about senior cursebreakers coming across them, and I've never heard of any attempt to save the artifact itself. I'm trying to think of anything that might help but they're so rare..."

"It's okay, Bill," Harry says woodenly. "It was a long shot anyway."

"William has had other people looking for a few months now," Hermione says shakily. "We'll find something."

"You have?" Daphne finally breaks her silence, looking at me in surprise.

I nod. "Harry's godfather and Professor Lupin are looking through the Bl—their libraries, and I had the Delacours searching as well. We tried the Greengrass Library as well, but..."

Daphne bristles in anger, and I hope it's directed toward her father and not me.

"That's dangerous information to be spreading around," Bill says uncertainly at the mention of the Delacours and Greengrasses.

"Lord Greengrass was not informed, and Fleur Delacour owed me a Life Debt," I say.

"Ah, yes, the Second Task," Bill says, nodding. "You have thought this through rather thoroughly."

I feel my face heat slightly at the praise. "I wanted to contact you sooner, but..."

"...that's not something you can put in a letter," he finishes. "Very intelligent. I can start making discreet inquiries now, though, if you like. Do you have a problem with sharing this with a few select goblins and other cursebreakers? I can assure you they will be trustworthy."

"I trust them if you do," Harry says.

"I'll start this afternoon, then," Bill says, nodding grimly. "The way my mother goes on about you, Harry, you're already a Weasley, so I'll do everything I can."

"Thanks, Bill," Harry says sincerely, smiling at the thought.

"I can't promise success, Harry, but if there's a way, I'll find it," he says solemnly. "Now, I can't tell you not to worry, but I do hope we can put that nasty business behind us for now. I heard an incredible story of the First Task from my brother Charlie, but I'd like to hear it from the point of view of the Champion himself."

Daphne is largely silent for the rest of the conversation, allowing me to tell the story about becoming closer friends with the Slytherins. When she snaps at one of my jokes about it, I stick to more boring explanations, but overall the tone is light and everybody else enjoys themselves. After we've said our goodbyes with Bill, she's completely silent entire way back through the passage, though in her defense the rest of us quiet down as well.

Hermione picks up on this, too. "Are you okay, Daphne?"

She shakes her head. "It's a lot to take in," she says just before her body goes rigid with anger. She takes a deep breath to settle herself. "I wish I wouldn't have stopped you from telling me sooner, William."

I would say that it wouldn't have made a difference, but she probably wouldn't appreciate that.

"It is hard to believe how much Harry has to go through," Hermione says softly.

Daphne makes a pained expression, then surprises the rest of us by pulling Harry into a hug. "I'm sorry," she says. "I...I should've..."

"N-no, it's okay, Daphne," Harry says, patting her on the back uncertainly. "Between you three and the others helping us look for answers, we'll find them."

"That's right," I say, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly, "Harry is going to kick Fate in the balls, just like he always does."

* * *

The next days crawl by with painful slowness, a feeling exacerbated by my decision to stop pushing myself to near magical exhaustion at every opportunity. I go to class to attempt distracting myself, but my restless legs make it even worse.

"You're making Harry nervous," Hermione whispers on our way to dinner on Wednesday, the night before the Final Task. I glance up at said Champion who is trying to distract himself in a discussion of Quidditch with Ron and Neville.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to hide my nerves as best I can," I whisper back.

She tucks her arm in mine and pulls herself closer. "Is it the Life Debt thing?"

"Yes," I say honestly. "It is."

She sighs and closes her eyes. "You'll tell us tomorrow?"

"I promise."

"Good," she says with a firm nod. "I'll sick Daphne on you if I have to."

I give her a small smile, thinking the pair of them are equally scary to me.

She frowns at me and hugs my arm as we walk the rest of the way to the Great Hall. Once again I only manage a small portion, though I do push the food around on my plate to try and hide it. I reach over to the water pitcher plenty of times in the hope that the others think I'm eating normally.

"William, I would like to speak with you, please," Luna's melodic voice startles me...I didn't even see her stand up on the other side of Neville. Without waiting for an answer, she takes my hand in her own and holds it up, waiting for me to stand. I see Hermione nod at the small blonde Ravenclaw, as if they'd spoken about this. I realize they probably had. She glances around the hall and nods, then leads me out into warm evening air where she envelops me into a hug. "You have friends, you know," she says in her dreamy voice. "I know I didn't know how to have them before you came along and showed me, but I didn't think I would have to explain it to you."

"I know," I say, not knowing how else to respond.

"Then why," she says, lifting her head off my chest to look up at me, "aren't you acting like it?"

I sigh. "It's...complicated."

"I know you can't tell me about it," she says, and I have to smile at how she can make me feel like a child without any malice behind it. "But that doesn't mean we can't talk about other things and give each other plenty of hugs."

"I do like hugs," I say with a small chuckle, squeezing her again.

A new voice sounds out behind me. "Then why haven't you been giving them out like you used to?"

I turn to see Astoria with her hands on her hips and, beyond her, Daphne standing with her arms crossed in front of her with a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm sorry, Stori—" I begin, but I'm cut off by her marching up to me and whacking me on the shoulder playfully as soon as Luna pulls away.

"Apology not accepted." She takes Luna's place and squeezes me around the middle as hard as she can. "I don't know what's going on, but I do know that you aren't getting any happier by hiding from us."

"No, no I'm not," I admit. Idly I realize it's a rather odd personality quirk to shy away from physical comfort precisely when I need it most.

"Good," she says firmly. "As long as you realize that."

I reach my arm out to Luna and she happily joins the hug, upon which I close my eyes and draw comfort from both girls. I feel like the weight shifts partially onto them, and they don't even notice it. Then the enormity of my Task and the sting of the letters I've written them come back with a vengeance, threatening to overwhelm me. My eyes burn as tears threaten to leak out. "I...I need to speak to Daphne," I say, voice cracking.

Astoria and Luna both pull away, and Luna nods first while Astoria searches my face a moment longer. I manage a half smile and she jabs me in the chest. "No more hiding."

"No...no more hiding," I agree, looking up at Daphne. With a final squeeze Astoria goes and catches Luna's arm in her own, whispering and nodding as they walk away at the same time the elder Slytherin sister approaches. I put up a Privacy Charm as soon as she's in range.

"No more hiding?" She raises an eyebrow. "It's a day early."

"Yes, well, I think perhaps it's about time I followed up with you on something," I say. I take a deep breath, then open my eyes to find her ice-blue eyes fixed on mine expectantly. "It's tomorrow," I say. Her eyes widen dramatically. "The agent is Barty Crouch, Jr., a Death Eater that was supposed to have died in Azkaban."

"Where is he? What is he going to do?" I'm pleased to see the fear is making her hyper-focused right now instead of frantic, which is exactly why I couldn't tell Hermione.

"Listen to me, Daphne," I say seriously, putting my arms on her shoulders. "My plan is already in motion, and it requires that nobody else act on that information. Do you understand me?"

"William," she whispers, fear leaking into her voice. My words must register then, because her expression solidifies. "What do you want me to do? Please, tell me something..."

I take a deep breath, trying to decide what to tell her. "I've already written you a note that I will have delivered on my signal," I say.

She swats my hands away. "A _note_? You have to give me more than that!"

I bite my lip. "The agent is using Polyjuice potion. I have some backup planned for him, but I was hoping you would Switch it away from him. But I can't have you do it too early, or else all is lost. Do you see? This is why I can't give you too much."

Her hands reach up and grab fistfuls of raven-black tresses in frustration. "Damn it, William, we could have come up with something that didn't need such precise timing! We could have done this together!"

"I'm sorry, Daph," I say, looking down. "I'm sorry, but I...I got too close to you. I wanted your input, but..."

"...but I care about you too much to let you risk yourself, now," she says in an empty voice. Her head droops and she turns her face away from me. "Damn you, William," she says softly.

"I...have to hide tomorrow," I say after some moments. "Shortly before the Task starts, I'm going to borrow Harry's Cloak and hide so I can keep an eye on things without interference. So don't be alarmed when I don't show up to sit by you and Hermione and the others." I deliberately do not look in her eyes when I say this.

"My parents are coming, anyway," she says, voice still tinged with anger at the mention of her parents, but then her head whips up to look at me. "But if you're in danger and something goes wrong..."

I give her a pained grimace. "Yes, well, that's why hopefully nothing goes wrong."

"I don't like this plan, William," she says, eyes quivering slightly in the orange light of dusk. "I don't care if I don't know what it is...I don't like it."

"If I...if I don't..." My voice hitches and I can't complete the sentence.

Suddenly I see stars and my left cheek is burning. She slapped me! I start to reach up to rub my cheek but she grabs both sides of my face and pulls my head down, where her lips press firmly into mine. I'm so shocked and thrown by the torrent of conflicting emotions charging through my head that by the time I realize we're kissing, she's pulling away, looking at me with tears in her eyes.

"That...that wasn't just from me, William," she says. "That was from all of us that care about you. All of us that...love you. I'll keep your secrets, gods damn you, but you will come back to us. You _will_." She punctuates the last with a jab to my ribs, then turns and half-runs back to the castle.

* * *

A/N:

The color of the Blasting Curse (_Confringo_) is not described in canon, but it's purple in one of the video games, so that's good enough for me. Alternatively it's light blue, but I had made the Reductor Curse blue way back in the early chapters, so I wanted to differentiate it.

All the pieces of William's plan are in place...next up: the Final Task! Also, love quadrangle?

R & R, C & C.


	26. Chapter 26: The Final Task

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is apparently happily married and not interested in polyamory. Also, I am shocked and appalled that you think my interest had anything at all to do with ownership of the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Chapter Twenty-Six: The Final Task**

"Ready, Harry?" The tall redheaded cursebreaker puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles encouragingly at me, then Molly does the same. I feel a dissonant twinge of heartache and happiness that they've come to stand in as family.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I say honestly.

Hermione glances around the Great Hall with a confused expression. "Where's William? Shouldn't he be back by now?"

I shrug in what I hope is an unconcerned manner. "We had a chat before dinner. He said he'd see you during the Task, so he must still be busy."

Her face falls a bit, which pains me. "Okay," she says, "I suppose he might be down there with the everyone else, but I thought he'd be with us until the last minute."

I consider making a joke, but I'm so nervous about the Task that I don't want to say too much in front of her. Hermione looks at me oddly, but takes my hand as we follow Bill and Molly to the Quidditch pitch in the midst of reporters and other officials. I have steadfastly ignored them ever since the first excruciating interview several minutes earlier in which I gave very brief answers that were likely to be expanded upon outrageously, as usual. I figure that's enough, but of course they continue to approach as we make our way down, apparently hoping I'll forget that I had already turned them down. The more persistent and rude ones are chased off by the Weasley matriarch, for which I am quite grateful.

Unfortunately my guardians do have to leave me at the Champions' Tent with a pair of bone-crushing hugs from the two women and a handshake followed by a comforting pat from Bill. The two women attack me once more to coerce promises of extreme caution from me in the strongest terms possible before they let me enter. To further my misfortune, Ludo Bagman, being a judge, is allowed to enter as well. He had entered in front of me and had apparently waited for me, because he immediately pulls me aside to make sure I'm ready, an event complete with the usual surreptitious offers to help. It's a bit baffling considering I can't imagine he'd be able to teach anything useful in the scant few minutes we have. In a bizarre twist, though, when he finally takes his leave with a few brief words for the other Champions, the nerves come roaring back. I wish I had kept him around if only for the distraction. A quick glance around at the restlessness of the other Champions, who had arrived before me, doesn't offer much comfort.

Most of that discomfort, of course, is knowing what's in the corner of the tent.

"You look more nervous than usual, Potter," Cedric says, not unkindly.

"Looking forward to all of this being over," I say.

"If you had said _zat_ at _ze_ beginning of _zis_ year I would not 'ave believed you," Fleur says. "You are a good man, 'Arry Potter, and I would not be surprised if you won. Not _zat _I will let you win, of course."

"He _vill_ not," Viktor says, but he smiles when he says it. "Not if I _haff_ any say in it."

Cedric laughs easily. "If I wasn't down here about to win it myself, I'd have liked to watch the three of you go at it. I wouldn't know who to bet on."

The comfortable jabs at each other had apparently carried over from our joint training sessions, which lightens my heart a bit and makes me smile. All too soon, though, the call comes for us to enter the stadium. The noise as we exit the tent is intoxicating. Girls screaming the names of each of the male Champions, catcalls aimed at Fleur, various chants for different schools...all of them blend into a deafening roar that makes me want to either cover my ears and hide or show off a little.

A firm grip on my shoulder causes me to turn to the smiling face of Cedric. He leans in so I can hear him over the din, and surprisingly I can. "Much louder than any Quidditch game, isn't it?" He slaps my back in a friendly manner at my nod and turns away, walking toward his flat, wooden starting platform that I only now realize are there. His is painted in Hufflepuff yellow trimmed with black, and the others are Gryffindor crimson and gold, the powder blue and silver of Beauxbatons, and the brown trimmed with red of Durmstrang. When I glance over and see the other two Champions following Cedric's lead and heading for theirs, I head for the Gryffindor one.

Once there, I look over to see what I assume to be a Ministry official speaking to the other Champions one at a time. When it's their turn, each of the other Champions draw their wands and hold it stiffly to one side while the official waves his wand and says something that is lost in the noise. I realize they're checking for magical items, so I do as the others did and then let out a sigh of relief when the man nods and I can stuff my wand away. A surreptitious glance to the judge's panel shows Dumbledore leaning very close to and apparently speaking with Madame Maxime. Idly I wonder if they're using anything like _muffliato_ to hear each other. Then I turn further and see Moody's mangled form apparently looking directly into the maze, though I wouldn't be surprised if his eye was rolling around madly.

It takes several tries for Ludo Bagman to overtake the roar of the crowd, but eventually he calms them down enough for my eyes to fall to the dark entrance and the roar of terror in my head to take over. In my mind's eye I can see blast-ended skrewts, sphinxes, acromantula, shifting hedges, illusion traps, and an Imperiused fellow Champion viciously torturing the others.

And Harry...staring up at me in tearful betrayal when I bound and Silenced him, drank the first of several vials of Polyjuice Potion that Mr. Delacour had procured for me, stole his Champion's uniform for myself, put him in the set of school robes that I'd brought for him, and stuffed him in the corner of the Champions' tent to await his rescue by Hermione. I couldn't even look at him by the time I pulled out a replica of his glasses and transfigured my wand to look like his.

Oh, son of a bitch, why did I think this was a good idea? I'm half-tempted to try and use my magic to try and reverse the Polyjuice and make Harry do this. Then I picture the sickly green flash and Cedric's lifeless body, the gash on Harry's arm, Voldemort's hideous, sneering visage, and all of Harry's friends and the others that die at the monster's hand...and I realize I have to do this. Dobby is in place watching for the signal, so I can't let Harry down now.

I tune back in to Ludo Bagman's announcements in plenty of time for his final explanation of the rules, followed shortly thereafter by the cannon blast that is my signal to enter. Screwing up my courage, I plunge into the maze, only realizing later than I was holding my breath.

* * *

Thankfully, Crouch is doing his job keeping the majority of the nastiness away from me. That had been part of the reason I didn't want Daphne to know too much before the final signal. At the first sight of a blast-ended skrewt I turn and sprint the other direction. The adrenaline high fueled by the cheer of the crowd quickly had faded once I entered the maze, which I realize must be warded from the crowd noise. And with the constant level of ambient light, I realize it must be warded from sight from the inside as well. Idly I wonder if everybody is watching me, and now the adrenaline is pumping from fear. Obviously I have no idea what path Harry took, but I hold my otherwise useless wand on my palm and will it to point me toward the Cup.

I consider asking for the shortest path, but I realize that could turn out to be quite a horrible idea. I also consider asking it for the safest path, but I'm concerned that that means simply Summoning the damn thing. After all, didn't Harry do that in the graveyard? I suppose they probably have some kind of ward set up here to prevent that. It doesn't matter much, however, because to go without lighting the signal would be quite bad.

So it is I find myself following the path my wand indicates. Whether it's Fate or some Barty Crouch trickery I turn a corner to find a golden mist that I seem to remember from the books. I can't remember if I can avoid the stuff, but I put up a Bubblehead Charm anyway. It doesn't matter. Intellectually I know that it's giving me the illusion of reversed gravity, but it's still difficult to fight down the panic that comes with the sensation of potentially falling up into the sky. Although it feels extremely weird to do it, somehow I put one foot in front of the other and push through it far enough that the world rights itself.

I don't remember exactly what happens to Harry in the maze, but I'm pretty sure Harry runs into a sphinx that gives him the spider riddle shortly after he leaves the mist. After a quick Four-Point Spell I dash off hoping to run across it, but I keep hitting dead ends. I try to fight the feeling of dread I feel when it occurs to me that Harry ran into Cedric early on, but I didn't do that. That means that pretty much anything can happen here now. I hear a distant scream just before I see red sparks fly high into the sky.

That's Fleur.

I'm completely turned around by this point, so despite my urge to find her, I just have to assume that Ministry officials are standing by, ready to pull her out. Forcing my attention back to the task at hand, I hope that my Four-Point Spell continues to give me a reasonable path. Of course I shouldn't be surprised when it points back the way I came, thanks to the shifting hedges, but it does freak me out for a split second. I start to follow, but then I remember: Harry had to save Cedric, or he could become a vegetable thanks to Viktor's Cruciatus! I quickly recast the Four-Point Spell, willing it to point me to Cedric, and it sends me in the same direction. After hitting a number of other dead ends, I start to become rather frustrated at my apparent lack of progress.

Once again the fear of failure drives me on relentlessly as my heart tries to pound through my ribcage. Viktor's closer-than-expected, vicious growl makes my heart stop. "_Crucio_!"

An involuntary cry of alarm rips out of my throat as I skid around the corner to see the Durmstrang Champion's face twisted into a murderous glare, teeth clenched and bared as the real Hogwarts Champion writhes under the torture. My hand flies up without even pulling my wand and the streak of red splashes against Viktor's chest, laying him out flat on his back. Fearing the worst I immediately skid down to my knees to Cedric's side, while he continues to twitch involuntarily. I roll him on his side in case the spittle in the corners of his mouth is from vomit. Sure enough, the older Hufflepuff coughs out part of his dinner.

Shit, what am I supposed to do now? He didn't get hit this bad in the book! I can't send up sparks for him, because I'm not close enough to the Cup to give the signal yet. But if I try to heal him too much, he could reach the Cup before me. To my surprise, Cedric pushes himself up slowly to a seated position despite the shaking and occasional muscle spasm.

"Th-thank you, Harry," he says, voice hoarse and shaky. "He was Imperiused, I'm pretty sure."

I nod and study him intently. "What do you want to do?"

"S-send up sparks for him, first," he says.

I walk over and pick up Viktor's wand, studying it for a moment. Unsurprisingly I feel nothing from it. I walk back and hand it to the still sitting Hufflepuff Champion. "I'm not getting a response from it," I say truthfully.

He lifts his eyebrows at me then takes it wordlessly and studies it a moment before nodding. "Once I send the sparks up we should be away from here."

I offer my hand, and he takes it so I can pull him up. I'm a little thrown by the lack of leverage provided by my normal height, but I manage it with his help. Damn, he's strong to get up like this, even if he is leaning on me heavily. He lifts Viktor's wand and sends up red sparks, upon which time we trudge away, his arm over my shoulder.

"Hold on, this is far enough," he says, obviously in some pain from the movement. He lifts his arm off my shoulder and sits down again, crossing his legs as if in a sort of meditative trance. I wonder if that's exactly what he's doing. "I need time to..." He trails off and stares over my shoulder, which causes me to spin around as well.

There, probably thirty yards away, is the Triwizard Cup. In an instant I realize that the hedges must have shifted and revealed it, or else I would have seen it before. "That's..."

"...your Cup, Harry," he says.

Without answering, I pull out my wand to maintain my disguise, push out a stream of magic to levitate him, then take off at a run toward the Cup. I only make it halfway when the expected but very much unwanted acromantula shows up dead ahead, just behind the Cup.

Now, for the most part I'm not scared of spiders in real life. I wouldn't hold one of the big, hairy ones voluntarily, but I generally leave them alone. Not so with this big, ugly bastard. I set Cedric down on his knees while the monster apparently studies us from his original position. "How do you want to do this, Cedric?" I am half proud, half surprised that my voice comes out steadily despite the sheer terror sending tingles down my spine, though it helps that I'm trying to speak quietly. "I don't suppose you can conjure a basilisk, can you?"

He chuckles grimly. "Hopefully it runs away—fire! _Confringo_! _Confringo_! _Incendio_!" His first spell hits one of the charging beast's eyes, after which it rears up in pain and takes a second Blasting Curse to the abdomen. I add my own silent Blasting Curses, making them as powerful as I dare to seem like I'm Harry, but I take my time aiming the shots since I don't want to use up too much of my magic. Cedric and I both stand our ground, and the Champion's impressive stream of blistering fire halts the monster from coming near, while I attempt to take out its eyes with Blasting Curses. The onslaught is enough that the acromantula scurries away, dripping steaming, purplish liquid – probably some mixture of blood and venom, I imagine – and trailing the stench of burnt hair and flesh in its wake.

Cedric and I look at each other in surprise and relief, then he turns his gaze back to the Cup. "You saved me again, Harry...there's no way I could have run," he says, now sitting back after fighting from his knees. "It's yours."

My gaze drops to my feet. "You would have won, Cedric, if there was any justice in this world."

He chuckles. "If you had tried to put your own name in, Harry, you would have been Hogwarts Champion."

"I guess we'll never know," I say, then hit him with a Disarming Charm.

The shock in his eyes is much the same as Harry's, a twist of the knife buried in my gut earlier today. "What's this?"

"I'm sorry, Cedric," I say, tears once again stinging my eyes at the thought of Harry's face. "If Harry were here, he'd have suggested that you take the Cup at the same time for a joint Hogwarts victory."

"H-Harry?"

I shake my head. "It's William, I'm using Polyjuice."

His jaw drops open. "Why?"

I grimace. "The Cup is a portkey. It is set to take Harry to You-Know-Who, where he'll perform some kind of resurrection ritual using Harry's blood. I can't let him get Harry's blood." Cedric is still staring at me incredulously. "Only, I don't know if I can face it just now."

"Don't," he blurts out. "Then don't. We'll get out of here and—"

"No," I cut in. "No, I've been planning this trap for so long. I can't let him get away. He won't kill me as long as he thinks I'm Harry. Speaking of which..." I pull out another vial of Harry Polyjuice and choke it down. "Damn, that stuff is nasty."

"William, you can't do this," Cedric pleads, "it's too dangerous."

"Hell yes it is, but he's not ready for it, so this is the perfect time to strike," I counter. "As soon as I send up sparks for you, the signal will be up, and a half-hour later, backup will come for me where the Cup will take me." At the thought of sending up sparks, I start scanning the sky, making sure nobody is coming.

"Let me come, too," he says. His voice trembles, but my mouth parts slightly as I let out an awed breath at the incredible display of bravery. Here is a guy who, just a few minutes ago, had no idea that Voldemort was active except for what seemed like a few people dressed as Death Eaters during the Quidditch World Cup scare. And now he's asking me to take him with me so I don't have to face it alone, despite the fact that I really haven't spoken to him nearly as much as Harry has. Maybe part of that is because I'm wearing Harry's face, but I think it must be a small part; Cedric really is just that awesome. I'm surprised someone like him isn't in Gryffindor, but that just goes to show that Hufflepuff is not a House of castoffs who don't have the personality traits that the other Houses value.

I close my eyes, fighting the urge to take him up on his offer, and shake my head. "I don't have an extra portkey with me, and if you come with me, you die. No, I'm counting on Vold—You-Know-Who completing the ritual with my blood, calling his Death Eaters, and destroying or capturing them all. Tonight."

He is breathing heavily, probably sifting through objections, trying to convince me to do something else. "But...this is madness!"

I nod. "Yeah, there is a bit of a timing issue here...if backup is too early, then they won't get the Death Eaters. Too late, and I'll be dead." I shudder. "That's why I'm sitting here talking to you. I need time to recharge my magic as much as possible before I go." I don't tell him that talking is distracting me from the task at hand. I know I've erred on the side of caution, I just hope Voldemort summons his Death Eaters before the cavalry rides in.

He drops his head into his hands, alternately tugging at his hair and kneading his temples. "How do you know all these things?"

I smile grimly. "Harry and Hermione have asked me that ever since the beginning of the year, but I couldn't tell them. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Please," he begs.

I took at him askance. "I wasn't lying, you know. Harry would have said that you and he should take the Cup at the same time. You both would have been transported to Voldemort, and you would have died. Killing Curse. No warning."

The blood drains from his face. "You...you're a Seer?"

I shrug. "Something like that." It doesn't matter if I tell him anything like this, since it'll all come out tomorrow anyway. Harry already knows some of this, too, though I had covered him up with his Cloak by then since I was too cowardly to look at his reaction.

Cedric stares at his still-trembling hands for several minutes before he looks up. "Where is Harry?"

"Safe," I say. "Hidden. I can't say anymore because his part comes later. Like I said, if the timing is off..."

He shudders, whether from that thought or the effects of the Cruciatus I don't know. "What would you have me do? How can I let you do this?"

I grimace. "I'd rather not have to hurt you."

"I can't sit back and do nothing while you risk everything!"

I frown in thought, considering whether or not I should let him in to help. Maybe with the Moody impostor? But in his condition... I shake my head. "I'm sorry, Cedric. Go back, get treated by Pomfrey, kiss your girlfriend, hug your father. With any luck, I'll come see you tomorrow and you can kick my ass for this." Then I grimace again. "Assuming Harry, Hermione, and Daphne leave anything left for you."

His eyes bulge. "They don't know?"

I shake my head and chuckle without any hint of mirth. "You think either one of them would have let me get away with this? I'm just amazed that I got this far." Thinking back on all the times Hermione and Daphne nearly caught me out...I really am lucky to have gotten this far.

A faint rustling snaps both our heads in the direction of the noise, but nothing appears. "You should probably send up those sparks for me," he says. "You won't save much magic if another acromantula shows up."

I nod, considering whether or not I should just let him do it. I decide against it, in the off chance that he decides he wants to stop me. Before I can consider the effects too much, I raise my hand and will my magic to produce the same sparks that Cedric sent up for Viktor.

His eyebrows jump to his hairline. "I just now realized...you've been using wandless, silent magic! They've been saying the Second Task was a fluke..."

I nod with a small smile. "Not all it's cracked up to be, but it's my only advantage there." I walk over to the Cup and wait just a little longer.

He looks at me with frightened eyes and a tight jaw. He opens his mouth to say something, but his attention is drawn by a pair of figures on broomsticks headed our way.

I shudder before I can stop myself. "Make them read their notes, Cedric," I say, tossing his wand to him. Before he can catch it and stop me, I grab the cup and feel a sharp tug behind my navel. Idly I think portkey travel makes more sense now, since that's right where my magic is.

I tumble through whatever dimension portkey travel works through and sprawl out on the ground when I land, luckily missing the nearby headstones by a short margin. That would have been bad. Sitting up and brushing myself off, I glance around and see nobody. I listen closely but the graveyard is deathly quiet except for a light breeze rustling the trees surrounding the cemetary. I stand, a spike of concern stabbing at my heart that something I changed has ruined my trap, but a faint rasping and scraping toward the center of the graveyard immediately draws my eyes to the heavily hooded figure who made the sound.

The irrational feeling of relief is quickly overwhelmed by the expected and far more reasonable paralyzing terror. I barely have the wherewithal to raise my own wand when the figure raises his at me.

"_Stupefy_!"

I could have raised a Shield and probably beat Wormtail, but as the red mass of swirling energy closes, inwardly I just feel relieved that I will not be conscious for this part.

* * *

Heat from a sharp pain in my arm wakes me enough to see the blurred but still hideous face of Peter Pettigrew, eyes gleaming madly and twitching with fear. I let out an involuntary cry before I grit my teeth at the throbbing, bleeding wound. The pain sharpens my thoughts, and I realize I'm still in Harry's form, so I've been unconscious for less than an hour. That's not surprising, since nobody else is here...a fact that is once again simultaneously relieving and terrifying.

"B-blood of the enemy...forcibly taken...you will...resurrect your foe," Pettigrew grinds out between his own clenched teeth as he holds a vial up to my arm to collect the blood trickling out. Idly I think that his Life Debt to Harry shouldn't be making him struggle like this, but then I see the stump of his arm that used to be his left hand. Ah, that probably hurts.

The cowardly servant stumbles back to the cauldron, left arm tucked in close to his body. He hurriedly dumps my blood into the cauldron before he collapses alongside it. My eyes snap to the boiling liquid when it turns a silvery white and starts popping and sizzling like oil, splattering bright drops of liquid all over the rim of the cauldron and on the surrounding grass. Wormtail squeaks when struck, halting his whimpering sobs when he rolls away from it. The thin wisps of smoke rising from spattered drops are soon overwhelmed when the interior of the cauldron stops glowing and starts spewing out the same light-colored fog. Straining my eyes, I see a dark shadow slowly coalesce within the fog. The dark shadow then lightens and becomes substantial...pale skin stretched across a visible spine and ribs and a round skull. Facing a frighteningly powerful and sadistic Dark Lord is bad enough in theory, but seeing his skeletal form elevates that terror to a whole new level.

"Robe me," a raspy voice says from the far side of the creature's face.

Pettigrew audibly whimpers, an act that goes surprisingly unpunished by Riddle. I suppose he must enjoy being feared, but surely that level of simpering must get tiring awfully quickly. I find that the sound also bolsters my own courage, such as it is.

The skeletal figure instead holds his hands out in front of him, apparently studying his new form, then, stepping out of the cauldron he turns to me. The glowing red eyes and slits for nostrils are much more frightening in person and my courage quickly flees once again. I don't try to return the gaze, since I know for a fact Riddle is perhaps on Dumbledore's level as a Legilimens. Instead I put on a grimace – which isn't terribly difficult considering the throbbing coming from my bared and bleeding left forearm – and look over at the bonds encircling my wrist. I give the cords a fake tug, hoping the sociopath hurries up at summons the Death Eaters before the cavalry arrives. Sure I told them to wait, but would they really listen to me?

Eventually, out of the corner of my eye I see him pull the elegant white ash wand from his robe pocket, then point it at the simpering coward and fling him against the headstone where I'm tied. When Peter starts crying loudly, Riddle throws his head back and laughs cruelly.

After some moments Pettigrew manages to choke out some words in between sobs. "My lord...my lord, you promised...you did promise..."

"Hold out your arm," the snake-like creature says, almost lazily. He must be in a good mood.

"Oh, master," the rat says in a disgustingly relieved way, holding out his stump. "Thank you, master—"

"The other arm, Wormtail."

My heart leaps then for two reasons. First, with this exchange I know everything is going according to plan. Second, the stubborn fog still clinging to the ground is finally dissipating, and the slowly slithering, circling Nagini comes into view for the first time. I have to mentally restrain myself from destroying her right away, since the bonds are no bar to my magic. It's too early, still. By the time I tear my eyes away from the most important target, Wormtail collapses and begins whimpering again, holding the much darker Dark Mark on his forearm. Voldemort looks back at me and starts going into the story of his Muggle father and the death of his mother. In the meantime I avoid looking at him directly, either once again pretending to struggle against the cords or searching the graveyard for the incoming Death Eaters.

Sure enough, pops of apparition start echoing around the cemetary, instantly setting me on edge. Nagini is still out of sight, so I fight to keep myself still while Voldemort continues his monologue. He stupidly chastises his Death Eaters right in front of me, a stupidity I am only too happy to exploit. I know the snake-faced bastard is going to hit me with the Cruciatus at some point, but if he wants to wait until the trap is sprung, that is perfectly okay with me.

On and on he goes, walking his circle, punishing his followers, musing on their whereabouts. And then Malfoy actually asks about how he lived! I don't remember this much chatting...I'm actually considering freeing myself and getting this show on the road.

"His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice... This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it...but no matter." He turns to me and smiles wickedly, walking over to me with a long, bony finger outstretched. "I can touch him now."

"You will not," the fierce voice of Albus Dumbledore echoes across the graveyard. The voice freezes Voldemort in his tracks, his red eyes narrowing at a point off to my right as he hisses angrily. The Death Eaters nearest to Dumbledore spin around to face him and stumble away. I turn my head in that direction to find a group of people advancing warily on the Death Eaters, though my vision is obscured by the headstones. I can see Dumbledore, McGonagall, and surprisingly, Snape, though I know there are more.

"You were a fool to come here tonight, old man," Riddle hisses, though I note he is gliding back toward his followers. "Although I must thank you for bringing me my servants. Severus..."

The Potions master makes no move to join Riddle. "You should never have killed Lily Potter," he says, glaring back at the Dark Lord as if he were a student.

Then I hear a voice that chills me to the bone. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

It's Moody's growl. In slow motion, the sickly green light flashes in front of the stunned professors, sailing right toward Snape, whose wide eyes had quickly moved to the source of the curse.

What could possibly have happened? Why wasn't he stopped back at Hogwarts? Daphne was supposed to Switch out the Polyjuice, but even if she failed she should have told someone and Crouch still would have been stopped. I'm almost positive that both of Neville's notes, one to his grandmother and one to Madam Bones, had mentioned the impostor! It was definitely in the one to Gran, since Crouch was one of those who tortured her son and his wife. So what had happened? Suddenly my mind flashes back to every conversation I'd had with Daphne.

"_Is it cowardice to want to ensure the safety of your family_?"

"_The Death Eaters are moving again. The World Cup was just the beginning, he says, and they will be more desperate. Thus, choosing a side will turn out to be very brilliant, or very foolish...and we would be foolish not to use other people's stupidity for our own gain_."

"_No respectable Slytherin could allow you to get away without finding out more of your secrets, I suppose_."

I see her face in my mind as she makes each proclamation, ice-blue eyes cold and calculating. It couldn't be!

"_If I were a Slytherin, wouldn't you expect me to consider that everything you do might be a calculated ploy to extract my secrets? Wouldn't you expect me to make sure that, if you are just using me to further your own goals, those goals coincide with mine?"_

_Her eyes snap to mine. "Not every Slytherin is like that!"_

_I snort. "No, certainly not every Slytherin is smart enough to pull that off, but you are."_

She didn't deny it... What have I done? How stupid could I have been, trusting a complete unknown based on fanfiction? But...

"_But what am I to you? Would it even affect your happiness if I wasn't around anymore?"_

"_If it was a direct result of my actions, it would affect me very much," she says._

"_So if it wasn't a direct result..." I trail off, letting her complete the thought._

_Her eyes remain on mine for a moment, then fall away. "...I would still be unhappy."_

Was that still a ploy? The emotion in her eyes, could she fake that? Hermione's face pops up, then.

"_She cares for you, William...maybe as much as I do, even. If it wasn't obvious before, it is now."_

If she can trick me, she can trick Hermione, though. Right?

_Suddenly I see stars and my left cheek is burning. Daphne slapped me! I start to reach up to rub my cheek but she grabs both sides of my face and pulls my head down, where her lips crash into mine. I'm so shocked and thrown by the torrent of conflicting emotions charging through my head that by the time I realize we're kissing, she's pulling away, looking at me with tears in her eyes._

I can't believe she could fake that...she couldn't have! Then I remember the context of the first conversation, as well as one particular line from the last.

"_My parents are coming, anyway."_

Suddenly I'm struck with the image of Daphne's father standing in the doorway to his private library, his cold stare boring through me. All the times we talked about the neutrality of the Greengrass family flash through my memory, and suddenly it makes sense.

Her father.

With that thought, time resumes and Snape drops to the ground, apparently dodging the Killing Curse by a hair. A split second later, Moody/Crouch was Stunned, Disarmed, and bound to a headstone.

Voldemort once again threw his head back and laughed cruelly. "So this is all the great Albus Dumbledore can muster...a few school teachers, including one of my own in disguise."

"Not quite," a new voice sounds from behind Dumbledore. Sirius steps out in front of a haggard-looking Remus, not a hint of joviality on either of the Marauders. Arthur and Bill Weasley must have met up with them as well, because they appear at Remus' side. "You will release my godson," Sirius says in a commanding tone.

Out of the corner of my eye I note Snape stiffen, but his eyes never leave the more dangerous threat.

Voldemort merely laughs again. "We still outnumber you two to one, you think any of you have a chance to leave here alive?"

When I turn back to watch the boastful Dark Lord, I see Nagini to my left, heading away from the newcomers. I can't let her get away.

The thing about _fiendfyre_ is that it doesn't take a great deal of skill or power to cast. What does take power and concentration is actually controlling it. So when I push out energy enough for a Hermione-sized Reductor, a fiery lioness leaps from my left hand, crosses the distance between me and Nagini in the blink of an eye, and envelops the massive python in a screaming, growling orgy of destruction. A howl of rage either from Voldemort or his Horcrux – or both – precedes a deluge from the maniac's wand that overtakes the _fiendfyre_ before it can grow too large. But the damage has been done. The snake doesn't even exist anymore except as ash washed away by the conjured water, and it'd be impossible to pick out what used to be snake from what used to be the flora unlucky enough to be in the vicinity. Before the bright flames had been snuffed out, I caught a flash, a reflection from behind one of the headstones well behind where Nagini was slithering.

_Harry._

My heart leaps at the knowledge that he's there and is apparently following my plan. Deciding I can no longer pretend to be helpless and that now is as good a time as any to enact phase two, I free myself from my bonds and drop to my feet as Voldemort watches with wide, blazing eyes. The silence in the graveyard is deafening. To show off a little more, I Summon my useless wand without a word and start twirling it...a skill that I've improved upon quite a bit in six months. Then I stuff it in my pocket and hold my hand out to my group of my allies without looking. "Do not interfere, headmaster! You either, Sirius. Tom Riddle and I have some unfinished business." I risk a glance at Dumbledore and I see him staring at me in shock, the Elder Wand dropping slowly to his side. That must be the final straw...I think he knows, now. But what is he going to do about it? Hopefully I've shocked him enough to finish this.

"_Harry_," several of them hiss, but I wave them off.

"You know the Prophecy, headmaster," I say calmly. I hear gasps from that direction, and I see Voldemort's eyes widen. "Oh, that's right, Professor Snape only brought you the first two lines, didn't he? Here's another two: _either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. _Weren't expecting that, were you, my fellow half-blood?"

"_CRUCIO_!"

Aw, fuck. I really wish I had my runic Shields right about now. I push a massive torrent of magic into a shield around my right hand to intercept the blazing crimson just long enough to sidestep left – closer to Harry, just in case. When I drop the shield, the impact pulverizes the headstone behind me, scattering chips of stone and dust all over my back and my right side. "A blockable curse, Tom?" I try to hide my fear at the immense strain that brief exposure put on my magic reserves, but a shudder still escapes me so I quickly speak up to try and cover it. "Were you even listening to the Prophecy? I guess the son of a Muggle and a Squib wouldn't know any better, would he?"

"ENOUGH! _AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

I drop and flatten myself to the ground just as a crimson blur intercepts the sickly green light, eliciting gasps from both the professors and the Death Eaters. Harry had somehow halted his momentum such that he collapses right in front of me, and my heart stops when I see the boneless way he falls. His eyes are closed, thankfully, because I don't think I could bear to see what they look like right now, and his unruly hair has fallen in such a way that his lightning bolt scar seemed to be on display. As I watch it fades from an angry red to a pale tan – no different from any other scar.

Suddenly it hits me: that's not a lightning bolt.

"What is the meaning of this?" Voldemort demands, but I ignore him, my mind blazing through new possibilities.

I get it. Rolling over to take Harry's outstretched hand, I squeeze it lightly, hoping that I haven't just destroyed our only chance to...

My thoughts are cut off by Harry returning the light squeeze. I start chuckling, letting it grow to a full blown laugh as I stand, knowing it would throw everybody off. I start moving slowly to the side so that Harry can get a clear shot. "You," I say, cutting off my laugh which had hopefully become just a little bit evil. Then I open my right hand, palm up, summoning the bright green light of the Killing Curse. "Harry Potter," I drawl, "will not be killed by the likes of you, Tom—"

But my taunts designed to keep his attention on me are cut off by a sudden roiling nausea that I haven't felt for three doses of Polyjuice. No! Not now! I must have been unconscious longer than I thought! Before I can get my hands in my pocket where I have one more dose I stumble sideways as one of my legs lengthens before the other.

Voldemort, of course, understands instantly. "Impostor! _CRUCIO_!"

Hurriedly I push out another massive wave of magic for a shield, but I know I can't dodge. I try to bat the spell away with my hand Shield, even though that had never worked in practice. It doesn't work here, either. The angry crimson flash devours my magical energy like it is nothing and every nerve ending in my body explodes in the most excruciating pain imaginable.

Hermione's voice carries throughout the graveyard before I can cry out with unimaginable pain. "WILLIAM, NO!"

Just like that the pain is gone, but Voldemort roars once again, furious at all the interruptions to his plans. "_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

As he bellows out the final word of the Killing Curse, time slows down once again. In an instant I take in several facts, first, Harry has sprung back up onto his Firebolt, gunning right for Voldemort. Hermione, from her voice, has started sprinting toward me. Spells erupt from all over the graveyard, and I realize the Aurors must have arrived and started firing on the Death Eaters at the same time the professors and Sirius did. Voldemort is aiming at neither me nor Harry. Which means...

"NO!" My body explodes with white light and suddenly my body no longer feels like I'm moving through water, I jump to my feet, sprinting at Hermione, trying desperately to overtake the sickly green light. I try conjuring a wall, but I can see individual particles forming far too slowly to protect her. My only chance, I realize as I move, is to knock her out of the way and hope Harry gets there and grabs Voldemort's face before he can get off another spell.

Hermione's eyes, which must have been on the spell, slowly shift to me and then widen even more slowly. She was already trying to fall to the ground, but with the size of the green curse which is now alongside me, I know it won't be fast enough. I crouch and spring, knowing that I'll probably break some of her bones, but better broken bones than dead. My body covers hers as we collide, and I take her head in both arms in such a way that it will be hopefully protected from impact.

Suddenly I feel a wrenching pain from behind, and instantly I know the Killing Curse has struck.

I was not fast enough.

In my time-slowed state I feel it ripping at this new source of magic, and I realize what the white light must mean...it's my life, or my soul, or whatever it is I tapped into when I saved Fleur. I realize that my faster perception and movement was why, from the pictures of the Second Task, I only seemed to be wreathed in white flame for a split second. And now it's being torn away by the worst of the Unforgivable Curses. I mentally yank back on the stream, then mentally scream in agony as it merely tears the magic off and continues to attack even the part I just saved.

We hit the ground and roll, and my eyes immediately find Harry with one hands gripping the silently screaming face of Voldemort and the other hand gripping the monster's wand hand before we continue to roll away.

The sight of Harry immediately turns my thoughts to his so-called lightning bolt scar. If I'm going to lose it anyway...I draw the same rune – not a lightning bolt, but a rune. Not a scar born from the darkest magic, but a blessing from Harry's mother. One rune, _eihwaz_, the rune of defense, charged with the life of a loved one. I draw the rune where my hand lies, Hermione's forehead, except I draw it right side up instead of sideways, and rip my life magic out of the crushing, vicious grip of the Killing Curse to pour it into the wound. The cut closes even before her blood has a chance to escape, and I keep tearing away at my magic, instinctively pushing it into her, charging the rune.

My senses start to go. My hearing is already distorted from my skewed perception of time, so I don't even notice it fade as I continue to tear and push. My vision blurs and goes dark. Tear and push. We've come to a stop, but I lose the feeling of Hermione's skin under mine. Tear and push. The smell of Hermione's hair, right against my nose, goes last. Tear and push.

I tear and push for an eternity.

I tear and push, tear and push until the white light is gone.

* * *

A/N:

The End!

Phew, that is an amazing feeling, finishing a story. Okay, okay, there is an epilogue coming...I wouldn't be so cruel as to leave you hanging here. But this is more or less the ending I have been imagining from the beginning. This is the reason I had William be so skilled with runes: nobody else that I've seen has noticed that _eihwaz_, indeed, looks like a sideways lightning bolt (just look at the S on my crappy cover). Since there's no way that Lily is the only one to ever die willingly for a loved one, I say the sacrificial protection required an additional step and the ability to put one's own life or soul into the magic. To me, that makes the prerequisites rare enough that it makes Harry's status as the only one to have survived a Killing Curse more believable.

As a side note, the more recent version of _sowilo_ actually does look like an upright lightning bolt, but you might recall many chapters ago that I described it as the older version that looks more like a Greek capital sigma. Granted it wouldn't be hard to change, but I decided to stick with _eihwaz _since the meaning is a bit better of a fit.

Around chapter ten or so was when the ending started to crystallize in my head, with William taking Harry's place. However, only when I started writing did I finalize exactly how I would use that knowledge. For a while I had a number of variations planned, such as:

- Moody/Crouch holds back until the end and cast the Killing Curse at William. Decided against this since 'I' would not have allowed him go unchecked for so long, and I needed Harry to take a Killing Curse from Voldemort since that was the only surefire way to destroy the Horcrux.  
- the Aurors shows up earlier to launch their massive battle with the Death Eaters. Decided that it would have been impossible to finish the battle under those circumstances unless pretty much everybody died or Voldemort and Dumbledore voluntarily stopped the fight.  
- Harry reveals himself earlier. I almost wrote it this way, but I decided that the shock of a second Harry appearing would not last long enough to finish the plan.

This way, having William taunt Voldemort as Harry and keeping everybody else out of the fight until the very end gives me (in my opinion) the most believable battle with a dead Voldemort, captured Death Eaters, and minimal other losses. I considered having Crouch kill either Dumbledore or Snape, the former because he's the biggest threat to Voldemort, and the latter because Snape betrayed Voldemort. I chose to have Snape attacked because Crouch seemed more interested in punishing other Death Eaters who failed Voldemort. I let Snape live for a couple minor reasons: first because I thought his line about Lily Potter was kind of badass, and second because this way William's plan succeeds almost perfectly despite the setbacks. Ultimately it doesn't matter much, since our only window into the Potterverse was slain.

As for the earlier pieces of the chapter, I am assuming, for the story's sake, that Harry's wand is not checked after I've taken over for him. I don't remember them checking it at all since the Weighing of the Wands, so hopefully this is not much of a stretch. Although, now that I think about it, if that's the way they did it they could just have an adult stand in for them. I didn't explicitly say this, but note that William is checked for other magical items, which is why he didn't bring any of his Shield runestones.

Right, then! I've got an epilogue for you, and then perhaps a post-mortem self review...with a surprise that would make the chapter follow the guidelines!

You may throw rotten vegetables at me now.

R & R, C & C.


	27. Epilogue: Letters

Disclaimer: Does JK Rowling own me now?

I appreciate all reviews, but I have to say it's extra awesome getting reviews from people whose stories you've enjoyed before.

* * *

**A Curse of Truth**

**Epilogue: Letters from the Dead and Departed**

I decided I'm not going to skip today. I don't feel like it at all; in fact, the thought of skipping makes my heart hurt. Instead, I walk slowly back through the Ravenclaw common room, passing my Housemates as usual. Something is strange about them today, though. Is that sympathy etched on their faces? No, they must be sad about William, too. He was a good friend.

I wish I hadn't thought about him again. I don't like crying.

As I walk into my dorm room, I'm glad for the disruption of having a somewhat small brown box on the foot of my bed with a note attached. Intrigued, I sit down and read the card.

_Luna,_

_If I'm still around, please return this package to me. If not, please open it and distribute the smaller packages within._

_- William_

I can't help it, fresh tears fall once again. I try to blink them away enough to see what I'm doing, which doesn't work until I actually get the box open and spread out the six equally-sized smaller packages, wrapped in plain brown paper, each with a note attached. I find that the top one is addressed to me, so I quickly tear open the envelope.

_Dearest Luna,_

_You were the first Hogwarts student I ever spoke to, did you know that? I'm sorry for that day on the train, I admit I was teasing you a bit. I wish I hadn't. Since you're the one I've known the longest and you've had such a profound affect on me this past year, I felt like you might be the best one to deliver these._

_Speaking of these gifts, I'm sorry about what happened, whatever it was. Obviously since I'm writing this, I knew that something might have happened to me. I only hope that everything else turned out okay. If it's just me that's gone, as I hope, then don't feel too bad about it, because I didn't belong there in your world, anyway. I don't know about the extent of the power you possess, but I wouldn't be surprised if you figured at least some of that out. Ask Harry or Hermione about it sometime after you give them their letters._

_Luna, you're a beautiful and brilliant young woman. I'm really happy I got to know you over the past year. The item this letter is attached to...well, I intended to keep it myself and offer you a copy later, but seeing as I no longer have need of material possessions, I leave it to you to do what you will. When you find out why I did what I did, I wouldn't blame you if you got rid of it. I know, I am quite literally unable to blame you now, but even if I could, I wouldn't._

_Goodbye, Luna. Never change for anybody except yourself, because I love you just the way you are, and I'd love you no matter who you decide to be. You deserve all the happiness in the world._

_I'm sorry._

_All my love,_

_William_

I close my eyes to let the torrent of emotions wash through me. Sadness, mostly...the most painful sadness since my mother died. But there's also a lightness that wasn't there before, because he got to say goodbye. My mother never did, and I still wonder sometimes what she would have said. I carefully open the smaller package and the tenuous hold I had on my emotions is shattered.

I cry into my bed. I cry harder than I have in a long time.

I don't know how many times the picture replays William squeezing me into his side and kissing me on top of the head. At some point one of my roommates comes in and quickly turns around, at which point I realize with horror that I'm keeping William's last notes from everybody else. Cleaning myself up and trying in vain to make myself look at least somewhat presentable, I set the new picture next to the one he got me for Christmas, and go to fulfill my friend's final wish.

* * *

I sit with my head in my hands, knowing I could have done more. Why didn't I do more? Gran tells me it's not my fault, but I can't help it. Everybody seems so happy that Voldemort is gone for good, but...

Suddenly a light touch on my shoulder makes me jump. My head snaps up as I feel disgusted by my weakness, but my disgust melts away when I see Luna. Only it's not the Luna I'm used to. The happy, dream-like look in her eyes is gone, replaced by the same haunted, red-rimmed eyes I saw in the mirror this morning. Her hair is even messier than Hermione's. Another tear joins the streaks down her face, and she wordlessly hands me a small package with a note addressed to me, and she gives an identical one to Ron, who is sitting across the table.

"What...what's this?" my cracked voice says, at which a bubble of disgust surfaces once again.

"From William," she says, before tears fill her eyes again. She gives me a quick hug and runs out of the Hall.

I stare in shock at the letter and the package for a moment before tearing into it.

_Hey Neville,_

_Well, if you're reading this, it means I'm gone. If I know you as well as I think I do, you're probably beating yourself up a bit. I don't know the extent of what happened, but if it's just about me, then don't. My plan was always dangerous, and I knowingly manipulated everybody – even Harry – in order to execute it. If all went as planned...well, almost all...then everybody else made it out okay. If not, I'm terribly sorry. If you want to know the full extent of why I did what I did, ask Harry or Hermione when they're ready. If either one or, Merlin forbid, both of them went with me...well, I'm counting on you to hate me as much as I would hate myself._

_You're a strong, brave, and loyal friend, Neville, and you didn't deserve my manipulations. I'm sorry. Thank you for everything you've done for me this year. You will make a great Lord Longbottom, never doubt that for a moment._

_Sincerely,_

_William_

My tears fall freely at the image of all of us in the workout group smiling and laughing happily. I remember when Colin snapped the picture and William immediately went to speak to him. How long did he know? It's not fair...not fair that he should be gone without my being able to tell him that I don't care what he did. He and Harry saved us from Voldemort, how could a few white lies overtake that?

A determination fills me to honor his memory, and I turn all my thoughts toward ways to accomplish that.

* * *

I remember when my neighbor died, I was really sad even though Daph and I weren't very close with him since we hadn't seen him for a few years. He was such a nice old man; he always had some treat or another when we snuck over there. That was the extent of my experience with death. Both sets of my grandparents died sometime before I was born, and I never thought to ask about them. My parents didn't have any siblings, either, so I had no aunts or uncles.

But when the group reappeared and I saw Hagrid pick up William's lifeless body, I couldn't breathe. I didn't believe it at first, but with the tears in their eyes and the looks in their faces, it couldn't have been one of his pranks, as much as I hoped it was. Daph always told me that Slytherin girls do not cry where somebody might see them, but there was a burning wetness pouring down my face before I had even realized it. I didn't understand what was happening when my mother was holding me back from going to him.

I didn't want to come back to Hogwarts, because now I can't stop thinking about him...expecting him to turn every corner in front of me or walk in the room with Hermione or Daphne on his arm. He was always so happy despite some of the sad things he told me. It was easy to remember the big things; outside the common room when he asked me to the Ball, in the Great Hall where we danced...but it was the little things that popped up everywhere else that hurt the most. An encouraging smile here, a little squeeze there. I can't even sit in the common room without expecting Tracey to come in saying that somebody wants to speak with me. I'm only safe in my bed, where only my pendant reminds me of him. I tried hiding it, but that only hurts worse.

The familiar, circular thoughts are chased away by a soft knock at the door, and I'm automatically rushing to the door in some horrible, vain hope that William is on the other side, even though I know that's impossible. I open it to reveal a Luna that appears as upset as I am. Then I feel bad at the thought since she knew him longer, so she's probably even worse.

She pulls out a small book-sized package and holds it out. "From William." My heart leaps for a split second before I realize that her tears are flowing again. I quickly wrap her in a hug before my own dams burst and the pair of us collapse to the floor. No words pass between us, and I have no idea how much time passes before I'm able to sit up and open the letter.

_Dearest Stori,_

_If you're reading this, then something bad happened. I'm sorry about that. I never wanted you to be a part of what I was doing because of this possibility, not because I thought you were too young or just incapable. I did promise Daphne, but more importantly I cared about you too much. I just hope everybody else made it out okay._

_But now that I'm gone, as I promised you may find out anything you wish to know. There is too much to write in a letter, but Harry and Hermione know the most. If your sister isn't too angry with me, though, she may find out as well._

_Thank you for being my date to the Yule Ball and helping me enjoy it so much. I really hope I wasn't too bad of a date, even though I didn't have a chance against such a beautiful and graceful young lady. You deserve a long, peaceful, happy life, and I can only hope, through my deceitful actions at the Third Task, I helped with that._

_Goodbye, my sweet Stori. Take care of your sister. I love you both for all that you've done for me._

_All my love,_

_William_

I don't know how long I stare at the letter after I finish, but Luna is gone and my eyes burn from shedding too many tears. The wrapping on the package is wet...probably soaked through and ruined whatever is inside. With a gasp I tear open the package to find a picture frame much like the one Daph had gotten for Christmas that I was so jealous over, except mine is even more beautiful. The picture of William and I dancing at the Ball makes me smile and hurt at the same time, and I pull both the picture and the letter to my chest as I let myself fall to lie on my back.

I loved him, I know that for sure, now. Maybe like a brother, maybe...well, it doesn't matter now. Either thought hurts just as much. I just wish I would have told him.

* * *

Why?

The same question has taunted me every waking moment and in my every dream. The latter is worse...much worse, when I see his face twisted in anguish from my betrayal. Why did I let my father stop me? He didn't know what was at stake! But he couldn't have, and that's why it's my fault. William was brilliant...a completely bizarre kind of brilliant, but brilliant nonetheless, so it had to have been my failure to stop Crouch that undid his plan. Why didn't I do it anyway?

Why?

Suddenly I realize, after hearing it again, that the knocking on the door is what woke me this time.

"Daph?" Tracey's muffled voice carries across the door.

I don't answer.

"Daph, someone is here to see you," she says, voice thick with emotion.

Irrationally my heart jumps at the thought that it might be William...that the body Hagrid carried away wasn't his. The dull emptiness becomes a piercing torture once again, and no amount of Occlumency exercises can chase it away. "No," is all I can get out. My throat is raw so my voice is hoarse.

"It's Luna, she's got a package for you. It's from...from William," she says, her voice hitching on his name. Hearing it aloud hurts so much worse than just thinking about him. "She already left one with Stori but she won't let anyone else take yours."

The knife twists further, but I deserve it. I make it over to the door, and it takes me a minute to focus enough to undo the locking charm. On the other side, Tracey is standing with Luna, the latter of whom looks much like me. Tracey is crying now, too, apparently caught up in our emotions. Luna hands me the package, then surprises me by giving me a quick hug before darting away. A hug from the girl I never would have even met without William hurts almost as much as the accusing, lifeless stare I see in William's eyes every time I close my own.

"I'll make sure she gets out okay," Tracey mumbles, wiping her face and following Luna out.

Attempting to steel myself, I open the letter.

_Dear Daphne,_

_If you're reading this, then I'm not around to annoy you anymore. Yeah, I'm sure I messed up somewhere along the line. Hopefully I didn't mess up too bad and I'm the only one that's not there to celebrate. If I did mess up even worse, well, I'm sorry for not turning your cunning mind to this task as I had originally promised. I struggled with the question long and hard, but in the end I decided I couldn't share my plan because of the risk to me. That's what we foolish Gryffindors are good for, right? Whether I blew it big time or I'm the only one missing at the party, feel free to mock me at my grave, wherever that ends up being if I have one._

_I know you always stop me from speaking my mind about you, but I'm going to take advantage of my captive audience this time. I meant every one. You know you're beautiful, so I don't even have to describe those piercing, ice-blue eyes that so entranced me, or your Yule Ball dress that perfectly accentuated them. The picture I gave you for Christmas...I didn't need my own copy because I could never forget your smile that day. The gift enclosed is the same way. I hope it makes you laugh – your true laugh – as much as it made me laugh. The world is a brighter place with it._

_However, I know that you might be angry with me. You most likely are, in fact, not just for the failure of my plan to work out exactly as I'd hoped, but because I manipulated you along with everyone else. Perhaps as a Slytherin you might forgive me for that easier than the others, but either way, I'm sorry. You've long noticed that I knew some things that I shouldn't have, and you were right. If you'd like to know more, I'm giving the full story to Harry and Hermione. But know that I took a chance on you, and I'm glad I did. I never could have done what I did without you, so thank you. I just hope it was enough._

_Goodbye, Daphne. I'm sorry for everything. If the other guy is in the same place as I am, then I hope you have a long, peaceful, happy life you deserve. If not, well, I hope you help put him where he belongs, because I know you'd succeed where I failed. I know you'll take care of Stori, so I don't have to tell you to...but she's going to be as strong as you one day. I love you both for all you've done for me this year.  
_

_All my love,_

_William_

_P.S. You kissed me after I wrote this, and I know you said it wasn't just from you, but...I don't know what would have happened with us, with Hermione, and then there's Harry...well, I don't know what to say except I do love you. I know we never said it out loud before, but I do. You might not care or want to hear that after tomorrow, but...okay, it's been an hour since I started to write this postscript, and I don't think I'm going to figure out what to say. Whatever happens, I just want you to be happy. I'm sorry about everything.  
_

I didn't think I could produce any more tears, but apparently I'm wrong. Of course he didn't know about my betrayal when he wrote this, so every compliment is another twist of the knife. I _am_ angry at him, because he made a huge mistake – trusting me. I deserve every ounce of misery, so I tear open the wrapping to find yet another picture. I watch William sneak a peck on my cheek just before I shove him away, then he trips and falls to the ground laughing hysterically. I remember that at that point he looks up at me and says he is not even remotely sorry. I hate my past self for the face I make at him. I hate myself for staying away. The tingle of his lips on mine...a moment ago, a lifetime ago...makes the betrayal even more agonizing.

I'm determined to speak with Hermione and get the whole story, and tell her how I betrayed her, too, by kissing him. Maybe that will get her to yell at me and curse me and tell me it's all my fault, but somehow I doubt it. I place the two photos face down for a moment, but then I set them back up and force myself to look at them. After all, how can I face William's best friends if I can't even face myself?

* * *

All day my mind alternates between being angry and horrified and amazed at the events of the past year, especially...last night? Two nights ago? I can't remember. It's all been a blur of tears...tears from my remaining best friend, tears from the outrageously large eyes of an odd house elf, tears of my own. Nobody else approaches us except for Neville and Ron, and neither knows what to say. They just sit for a while and then leave. Hermione says nothing, she just squeezes me tight, even though that hurts as much as when she stops. Her presence reminds me of William, of what the odd American had done for us this year. He should be the one here, not me.

He knew. All this time, he knew. I was horrified and angry when he bound me, but when I saw his tears and heard his explanation it was pure, abject terror. I should have broken free before he Stunned me. I know I could have done it somehow, but I was too shocked at what he said. I could have done it, and he'd still be here, in Hermione's arms where he should be.

But would I still have been able to—? I doubt it. That's the worst part...he went in, fully aware of what he was doing, and did what I couldn't have. He killed Nagini. He weakened Voldemort's form to have the same weakness Quirrell had. He saved Hermione. I merely finished the job, and now I get all the credit and he gets buried and forgotten.

_Damn you, William._ Thinking his name brings fresh tears to my eyes as, once again, the knowledge that I'll never speak to him again pierces my heart. _Damn you, w__hy did you do it?_

"I-it probably says in there," a voice says, startling me when I realize I voiced that last thought aloud.

It's Luna, looking down at me with swollen eyes, hair as puffed out as Hermione's, holding out two packages. My eyes pick out my name in William's sharp, slanted handwriting.

"He knew," I say dumbly.

Luna nods. "My last deliveries...I...I couldn't...his last wishes..." she breaks down and runs away when Hermione and I both take our packages.

"I...I can't..." Hermione says, hugging the package and burying her face between my shoulder and the couch.

The physical reminder brings fresh tears to my eyes, but I force myself to open the letter. I need to know why.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you're reading this, then at least something went right tomorrow, or probably yesterday for you. I'm planning on apologizing profusely when I do what I have to do, but in case you didn't believe me, then I do insist I really am sorry about manipulating you all this time. I am positively dreading the look you're going to give me when I take your place. If you're reading this, then the best possible outcome is that Hermione is sitting next to you and everybody else is okay, not counting Riddle and his followers. If that isn't the case...well, you probably hate me enough that you've burnt this letter to ashes before reading this far. If you haven't done so, please feel free to do so with what few things I have and pretend it's me, then treat my body like any other nameless Death Eater, because I deserve worse._

_If everything else turned out okay, then I expect you're still not as happy about it as I would be if I could still have feelings. You should be, though. You know that I didn't belong there in your world, but you don't know why. Yes, I did know what was going to happen, unless I changed it. In fact I thought you caught me when I let slip that I knew Fleur's hostage was her sister. A quick rundown:_

_You and Cedric would have grabbed the Cup at the same time, and Wormtail would have killed Cedric right away. Voldemort would have resurrected himself with your blood, and your touch wouldn't have been enough to kill him. You would have dueled him to a standstill and escaped with Cedric's body. Nobody would have believed you except your friends and Dumbledore._

_Next year the Prophet would have run a smear campaign against the both of you, and still nobody would believe you guys about Voldemort, so he would have grown in power and in numbers. He would have tricked you into coming to retrieve the Prophecy that I told you about by sending you a vision through your scar where he was torturing Sirius. You and your friends – who you would have trained in the Room of Requirement (that's how I knew about it) would have fallen for it despite Hermione's insistence that it's a trap. Sirius and several others would have come to rescue you from the ambush, and your godfather would have died._

_The year after that, Dumbledore tries to retrieve the ring Horcrux himself and is fatally cursed. His last act is to save Draco. Malfoy is forced by Voldemort to let a band of Death Eaters into the castle and Snape kills Dumbledore in order to make Voldemort think Snape is on his side._

_You would not have gone back to Hogwarts for your final year, in which Voldemort practically took over both the Ministry and Hogwarts. You would have learned about the Horcruxes the previous year but had no idea where they were. You, Hermione, and Ron leave school and find them – including breaking in to Gringotts and escaping on a dragon! You come back for the final battle, where Voldemort hits you with a Killing Curse and destroys his own Horcrux, Neville kills Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor, and you defeat Voldemort in a duel. I'm going to tell you at least some of this tomorrow so that you'll believe me, so hopefully that works._

_Sirius and Dumbledore aren't the only ones who would have died. Fred Weasley, Remus, Tonks (who had a baby by then), the real Moody, Amelia Bones, Snape, Colin Creevey, Lavender, Dobby, Hedwig...all would have been gone. That's not nearly a full list, either – just the ones I remember – and I don't need to tell you how awful it would have been for Muggles during the year under Voldemort._

_So that's what I was up against. I could have exposed Crouch as an impostor all the way at the beginning of the year – in case it hasn't occurred to you, that's why I was always afraid of him – but I was afraid of the outcome. Voldemort would have found a new way to kidnap you, or simply used someone else and developed some other defense against you. I thought this way had the best chance of success, assuming I could play my part._

_I don't know if I can, though. If I think about it too much I shake so badly I can't write. Well, it's in the past for you, so no sense in burdening you with my fears, although if you're reading this then I guess they were justified. I hope that I succeeded in the rest, but if not, I'm sorry. If I failed, I might not know enough to say what's going to happen now, but I know you can take it from here. Your friends are your greatest asset, so don't ever make the mistake of pushing them away._

_Goodbye, Harry. I don't know what happened so I don't know how you feel about me, but I want you to know that it was an honor, and I really do think of you as a brother._

_Love,_

_William_

_P.S. Ah, this is awkward, but I don't really care what happens to my body. If there's anything left, perhaps Dumbledore or St. Mungo's, or the Department of Mysteries would like to dissect me and figure out what exactly I am. The Sorting Hat told me I'd have been in Ravenclaw if I didn't ask to go to Gryffindor, so if somebody can learn something from my body...  
_

_P.P.S. Final brotherly advice: I'm not going to tell you what to do with your love life, but if you let memories of the dead and departed push you away from any potential relationships, I will magically appear again – bigger and stronger – just to personally _incendios grata _your ass. Hermione, Daph, Stori, Luna...every one of them are fucking awesome and they deserve someone fucking awesome, like you. I'm counting on you to kick their boyfriends' asses if any of those boyfriends don't know that. Just 'cuz the girls are smart about other stuff doesn't mean they'll be smart about that._

___P._P.P.S. Don't tell them I said that. Or do tell, I suppose, since they might take it out on you.

___P._P.P.P.S. May every god damn my soul to every eternal torture if Hermione isn't there, but if she is, make her read her letter.

* * *

A raspy chuckle startles me out of my hiding place against the couch, and I lean back to find Harry looking at the letter, smiling through his tears. "He wants you to read your letter," he says, then he leans back and chuckles some more. "He knew you wouldn't want to, like he knew everything else." Harry shakes his head and smiles sadly, pulling me into a tight, simultaneously painful and comforting hug before re-reading his letter. Bolstered by the apparent partial alleviation of his pain, I gather myself and open my own.

_My Dearest Hermione,_

_I can't even begin to tell you how thankful I am for everything you've done for me over the past year, and how sorry I am for everything I did to you. I didn't show up on Platform 9¾ with a plan at all, but I never expected to grow so close to you. I certainly can't say I regret it, but I know I cheated my way into it, so I do feel horrible about that part of it. As for the rest...well, we've talked about it enough, you know how conflicted my feelings were._

_If you and Harry are reading your letters together, then I did something right. Hopefully everyone else on our side is okay, too. If he came with me, then I cannot apologize enough. The thought is almost too much to bear._

_I won't write any more on the subject, but I do have to come clean on one thing: I did know what was going to happen as long as I did nothing to change it. I thought you were going to expose me so many times this year with whatever it was you did that could make me tell you the truth, including that last time a month ago when Luna came out and said I knew the future, and then a few days later when Daphne nearly let slip that I knew who put Harry's name in the Goblet (a fact which she squeezed from me some time earlier). There is a reason I wasn't surprised about Harry's name coming out of the Goblet, about Ron's jealousy, about the dragons, about the Ball, about the lake, and about the maze. I wrote the same sequence of events in Harry's letter, but here's what would have happened without my intervention:_

_..._

_So that's what I was up against. I could have exposed Crouch as an impostor all the way at the beginning of the year – in case it hasn't occurred to you, that's why I was afraid of him – but I was afraid of the outcome. Voldemort would have found a new way to kidnap Harry, or simply used someone else and developed some other defense against the blood protection. I thought this way had the best chance of success, assuming I could play my part._

_I hope that I succeeded, but if not, I can't tell you how sorry I am that you're all left to clean it up. If I failed I just hope it's not much worse than it would have been without me._

_Goodbye, Hermione. Despite what happened, please believe me when I say that everything I felt for you was real. I love you, but you have always deserved far better than me, and I hope you'll live a long, happy, peaceful life._

_All my love,_

_William_

_P.S. I'm going to tell you almost the same thing I told Harry. I don't know what happened so I don't know how you feel about me, but if you let any memories of the dead and departed get in the way of any potential relationships, I am going to magically appear and personally...make sure Daphne or Stori or Luna kicks your ass.  
_

_P.P.S. Send a letter or a postcard to the following address in January, 2013:_

_Xxxx Xxxx_

_P.O. Box XXXXXX,_

_Xxxxxxxxx, XX XXXXX_

_Give him my name and yours, and ask him how he's doing. He'll miss me._

_P.P.P.S. Invest in Apple Computers (AAPL) sometime in the next six years or so and don't sell it until at least 2012._

Ignoring the bizarre final advice, I stare at the letter for a long, long time, absentmindedly rubbing my scar as I let the tears flow. I wish I could tell him that I don't blame him, that I love him, and that there's no way I could deserve better.

Even though I know he wrote this letter the day before the graveyard, I wish he would have mentioned what he did there that gave me this scar, because I know it was him. Harry said he thinks the same Killing Curse that took William from us also hit me, but there was no rebound, and I know it never touched me. And...I feel like William's...here somehow, the same comforting presence that let me fall asleep that night. Strangely, thinking of him like that doesn't hurt as much as I would have thought. As I blush slightly in remembrance of the position in which we woke up – where my hand was – I trace my scar again, and a thought strikes me...it feels an awful lot like an _eihwaz_...

A hand pulls my own away from the scar, and I shiver when Harry presses his cheek to it. "Yours is different," he says with a note of surprise.

"No Voldemort to infect it," I say almost absently, then suddenly it hits me: that's exactly what happened. "Your scar...your mother's rune, her sacrifice reflected the Killing Curse but was corrupted by the Horcrux ritual. William...he figured it out right there in the graveyard, and he..." He did the same thing Harry's mother did...for me. "Oh William, why...?"

"He loved you," Harry says simply, but he shakes his head with a small smile as if he can hardly believe it himself. "He really did."

"He loved us," I correct him, blinking away the tears blurring my vision as I smile back at him. "He told us often enough." My smile fades at that thought. "But I didn't tell him back as much as I should have."

He frowns and nods. "Me neither." We both drop our gaze, though we're still leaning heavily on each other. "I love you, though," he says softly. "I didn't say it enough before...and I think he would..." Harry trails off, and I know what he was going to say. William would want him to...as ridiculous as it sounds considering the feelings he and I had for each other, he really would want Harry to say it.

"I love you, too," I say, "And yes, I think he would, too."

Harry hugs me tighter, and the pain is starting to lessen. Not much, but it's starting. He takes a deep breath, and I'm glad to hear he apparently feels a similar kind of relief. "He did what he promised, didn't he? He got me through."

"He did exactly what he promised," I agree, thinking back to all the times he tried to push me toward Harry, I wonder just how much he knew...

* * *

"Magic is a wonderful and terrifying thing, Harry...after over a century of studying it myself, it still manages to surprise me all the time," I say, pressing my fingertips together and looking over my glasses at the two young friends of poor Mr. Lerner. The last couple days have been rough on them, though it warms my heart to see them leaning on each other so. "There's no telling how much Mr. Lerner knew. Had I known...well, it doesn't matter. As for the Tournament, Harry, magic is based on will and intent, and I suspect the contract was fulfilled by your intent to compete. After all, none of the other Champions touched the Cup either, which signified the end of the competition. I daresay there were Champions in the past who became unable to compete but did not lose their magic."

"But sir, what he did to Hermione," he says, glancing over at the girl's most curious scar, so similar to Harry's, "did he create a—?"

"No no," I say quickly, "whatever he did, he did not remain as a wraith, as Voldemort did. You say he gave no hints at all?"

"None," Hermione says, looking down.

I sigh. Oh, to have picked Mr. Lerner's brain just once! Suddenly it occurs to me that he never looked me in the eye for any length of time, indicating he knew about Legilimency. And yet, apparently Dobby had said the young man was not a wizard. "I'm not certain we will ever solve this mystery, or indeed some of the others Mr. Lerner left us with, I'm sorry to say."

Harry knits his eyebrows together as he looks up at me. "What do you mean, sir?"

I sit back and take a deep breath. "This is a delicate matter, Mr. Potter, but I'm not sure where else to turn. Professor McGonagall has exhausted the resources of both the Ministry and the school, but she can find no mention of his relatives."

Hermione's face crumples as it falls to Harry's shoulder as she stifles a sob. "His friends are his family, sir," she says, voice thick with emotion. "That's what he...he always told us."

I stand and turn around, tears threatening to leak out before I force the thoughts away. "I see."

"He...he wanted to donate his body to anyone that wanted it," Harry says, causing me to spin around in surprise.

"What?" Hermione had asked the question at the same time, too.

"In my letter, he said he wanted somebody to learn something from him," Harry says softly, "maybe about...what he was."

I turn my back to them once again, pretending to examine the objects on my bookshelf, trying to avoid my thoughts of the young man. Did he not know, either? "Would you like me to make the arrangements? I can contact you both to finalize them if you wish."

"Yes, sir, that would be...that would be fine," Harry says woodenly. Hermione answers in the affirmative as well.

"I'm sorry to have brought it up, but perhaps we can do with some happier news," I say, turning to the bereaved teens to find them still holding each other but looking up curiously. "With the capture of Peter Pettigrew and the two dozen Auror witnesses to Voldemort's final defeat, your godfather has been given a trial..."

* * *

I slowly and painfully open my eyes, glazed with tears from my torturous dreams. Were those reactions real? I hope so; that was a much more pleasant, if difficult to experience, outcome. I shiver slightly at the aspects of the plan I hadn't considered. At least they didn't burn my gifts this time. Mentally I poke and prod at the spot where my magic used to be, only to find a complete lack of it...to the point where I continue to wonder if it was ever there in the first place. I hold up my hand and stare at the back of it, at the fading scar that I am sure is a result of my last ditch effort to save Hermione...the fading remnant of an impossible dream. When it's gone, will I still believe? Will I even remember?

Does it even matter?

Just like every other day for the last several months, I roll out of bed and go through the motions. Take a shower to wake myself up, eat a bowl of cereal, brush my teeth, throw some clothes in the dryer to make them less wrinkly because I'm too lazy to iron, hop in the car and drive to the post office before heading to work. The mail reaches my mailbox at nine in the morning, and I get there at eight fifty-five every day, like clockwork. On the drive I think about the final touches I have to make to my own fanfiction...almost two hundred thousand words of my unbelievable story. Unbelievable...well, obviously nobody would believe it, but passing it off as fiction gives me an outlet to talk about what I saw, about what I felt. My mind goes into autopilot as I reminisce, so I reach the post office almost before I realize it.

With practiced ease I slide the key into the keyhole and open the mailbox. Under the influence of muscle memory I start closing it again after the briefest of glances. But this time, my hand and my heart stop at the exact same moment. My mind goes completely blank when I find a single letter lying within, affixed with quite a bit of postage...international postage. No name is written with the return address – a jumble of numbers and letters I barely register as an address before I tear open the envelope. My eyes skip straight to the end, straight to the signature at the bottom. As soon as I see it, my head swims, my eyes go blurry, and my arms start shaking.

My world goes dark.

* * *

The End.

* * *

A/N:

This was hard to write. Okay, that was an understatement...I cried. Yeah, I'm lame enough to cry at my own stuff despite being a grown man. Personally I blame it on the sad song I was listening to at the time. I was listening to it when I started writing it back during Chapter 12 or so...that's when I wrote Luna and Neville's, though the former one changed a bit as I got closer to her. And I was listening to it when I finished.

Part of the reason it was hard to write because the entire story is from William's PoV and this is sort of a self-insert, so I'm essentially praising myself from someone else's PoV. So William (_ahem_, not 'I') is a little conceited when he imagines what the others say about him. And it is imagined; since the entire story really is from his PoV, he doesn't really know how they reacted. You see what I did there?

As for the identity of the one who sent William the letter...well, I guess we'll never know! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading!

R & R, C & C


	28. Post-Mortem

Disclaimer: I am dead and gone from JK Rowling's Potterverse, so I can no longer claim even my own imaginary piece of it. Until my next HP self-insert, I mean...

Contents:

- Post-Mortem  
- Bonus Omake: What if Hermione figured it out?  
- Preview of the Sequel (!)

* * *

**Post-Mortem**

This story just topped 100,000 views! As a bonus for you all, I've decided to share this little document that I worked up some time ago and recently updated now that I've had some distance from the story. Let me tell you, it's much easier to see the flaws from here.

I've never actually seen any fanfiction authors do this, but video game developers sometimes gather their thoughts at the end of the development process in an effort to understand and improve their next product. Most of this is probably not interesting to those of you who aren't writers yourselves. I might sound pretty harsh about my own story, but since the goal of publishing this story was to improve my writing ability, it doesn't make any kind of sense for me to be defensive about it. Likewise, feel free to tear into it, since, while I very much appreciate the completely positive reviews, it's the constructive criticism that helps me improve. If you don't care about any of this, or think it will ruin your enjoyment of this perfect story, then feel free to skip on ahead to the preview at the end (or the omake, if that tickles your fancy).

Otherwise, without further ado:

**Brief History/Statistics:  
**

I started writing this in May 2012, after only writing about 25k words of fanfiction and about 80k words of total fiction in my entire life. The plan was simple: to write a original character, self-insert (OC-SI) fanfiction in the Potterverse. That's it, no specific plot points drawn up except to have the PoV character 'fix' the events of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ using his knowledge of canon and fanon. OC-SI fics are a guilty pleasure of mine, and I couldn't find any set here.

I wrote approximately 150,000 words before I started posting it here on October 6th, 2012. I finished the story about a month later, and the epilogue was posted on November 17th, 2012. At 100k views, that's an average of 675 views per day, but over the past couple months this story averages around 300 views per day. At the peak of posting it received over 3,000 views per day. I still receive a few reviews each week, as well.

**What went right?**

_1) Daphne_

Daphne is, in my opinion, the best character in the book...which is surprising to me because I wasn't even planning on putting her in there until after I'd written tens of thousands of words. She's the most dynamic in terms of character development, and along with Luna, she was the most fun to write. In fact, my enjoyment of writing her scenes was the driving force behind my choice to write a Slytherin!Harry fic, Harry Silvertongue (and no, it's not a cross-over with His Dark Materials. I just completely forgot about Lyra Silvertongue).

One reviewer noted that Daphne's reaction in the epilogue was quite a bit weaker than he hoped. Looking back now, I should have really ratcheted up the anger as opposed to the self-loathing that's there now. That would have really helped to break up the weepiness of the whole thing and create a nice contrast between personalities instead of having them all react the same way. Of course, I can always claim that William's imagined response was just off target.

_2) Luna_

I said way back in Chapter 2 that I was proud of the way she had turned out, but when I went back and re-read the scene a hundred thousand words later I wasn't terribly impressed. And then in Chapter 10, William started acting a little wacky (to put it nicely)...and it wasn't until I was writing Chapter 17 that I recognized the parallels between him and Luna. I had already written Harry and Hermione as being influenced by William, but Luna was the first one that made me realize that the influence worked the other way as well. I went back later and filled that in a bit (e.g. Hermione's comment in Chapter 12, "are you sure you two aren't related?").

I'm not completely happy with how William turned out, but despite the similarity I'm really happy with how Luna did. She ended up more or less exactly how I wanted.

_3) Dialogue_

I haven't done the math, but my story is probably about 80% dialogue, because for some reason it just flowed out about as quickly as I could act out the scenes in my head. I actually very rarely got stuck writing this because I would just skip ahead and make characters talk, then fill in the holes later. The biggest trouble with writing my other projects is this reason exactly; it's too easy for me to get bogged down in description. And at the risk of sounding boastful, I think witty banter might be my specialty. Maybe I should write screenplays instead.

It's not all amazing, I'm sure, but the fact that it came so easily to me and it often turned out funny even when I didn't have a particular joke planned. Well, I thought it was funny, anyway.

_4) Runelore_

Although I credited other works of fanfiction for the mechanics of it, I think the addition of specific Elder Futhark runelore made my window into the Potterverse a bit more fun. It was interesting doing the research and then making some creative decisions on how the system might work, instead of just using it as a foreign language like JK Rowling seemed to do. And it wasn't the usual, 'this rune shoots arrows' type of approach (not that there's anything wrong with that).

There's also the fact that the rune of defense (_eihwaz_, for those of you keeping track) looks like a lightning bolt. I mentioned that I'd never seen the scar/rune connection in any other fics, though I will admit that I haven't read a lot of in-progress or shorter works.

UPDATE: You fail me yet again FFnet! I am currently reading Arsinoe de Blassenville's _The Best Revenge_. That story uses Younger Futhark instead of Elder Futhark, but she made the scar/rune connection well before I even started writing! Way to go, letting me think I'd discovered something all on my own. I did allow for the possibility that I just hadn't read it yet, and the fact that it's marked as a Harry P. & Severus S. story (it's mentor!Snape, not slash) meant that I didn't even give it a look until I read her epic, ongoing Dragon Age fic, _Victory at Ostagar_ (934,000 words and counting!).

**What went wrong?**

_1) William is a Gary Stu._

No argument there. I made some effort early on to avoid this by greatly limiting his magic, but I went back on that later by giving him enough magic to do anything. Also, other characters' reactions to him were entirely too positive all the way up until the Yule Ball, and even beyond then it's too much. Part of this I halfheartedly explained away by William not wanting to recount the bits where others weren't particularly fond of him, but he really shouldn't be virtually universally loved.

Another piece of that is that William tended to be the center of attention too often. It is a first person story, but Harry is too much of a natural leader for him to let William take the lead so often when it doesn't involve his foreknowledge. Hopefully I got better with this at the end (having Harry or Hermione move the group along instead of William, or having him go off on his own), but most of the story I wasn't paying attention to it.

One thing you might also note is that William went in with certain expectations from characters that were unwarranted and ultimately subverted. I didn't do a good job highlighting this, but if I'd done my due diligence when it came to planning (as opposed to the absolutely none that I did) I would have made this a running theme and explicitly pointed this out in my handling of at least Ron, Luna, and Ginny, and potentially others.

On a related note, I am a bit surprised that nobody said anything bad about my handling of Draco. Would William have been able to put Draco in his place like that? I'm not sure...canon Draco is tenaciously obnoxious. Obviously I've tried to write him to be more intelligent, but since we see so little of him you're left to take my word for it.

_2) William's acceptance of his sudden transportation to the Potterverse was too quick and easy._

The root cause of this is because I was too excited to get on with the story, but obviously that's no good reason. One potential solution to this would be to have William go through the first few hours or first few days as though he believed he was dreaming. This might stretch believability a bit, though, because it would seem more likely in this case that he would just spill the beans right away.

Another idea I had was to have him simply say, in an exasperated voice, "oh, not again!" This was actually my favorite idea, given the ending and the sequel, but then I would have had to change too much of my first few chapters at least regarding his reactions, if not to incorporate vague hints about where he'd been before.

_3) The Bud/William name switch is confusing._

Had I known it would cause as much confusion as it did, I would have named him William from the get-go. The funny part about that is that I literally came up with that name on the fly during that conversation with Luna back in Chapter 2, and I decided I liked it better. Most other self-inserts I've read use (supposedly) the author's real name with their last name redacted, but I thought a play on my pseudonym was clever. It wasn't, it turned out.

_4) There is too much Ron bashing._

One of the things I find most challenging about writing first drafts is that everything moves a lot slower when you're writing as opposed to when you're reading. As a result, it's extremely easy to overdo certain character traits and lose subtlety in the message you're trying to get across. Unfortunately, the Ron bashing is something that slipped my attention. It was probably exacerbated from reading too many fics with Ron bashing while writing this. Not that I have a problem reading such things (I'm not a huge fan of his), but it was unwarranted.

_5) There is not enough description._

No, there isn't. In fact, much of what's there was added later. This is my weakness as a writer; dialogue is what gets the words flowing for me because speech can be naturally imperfect. Unfortunately when it comes to non-dialogue, I'm generally a lot more careful with word selection and therefore much slower. Ideally this is something I would have fixed if I had finished the book before I started posting, but I was anxious to get my story out there.

**What was...a bit dodgy?**

There were other issues that either occurred to me or reviewers brought up but I didn't necessarily completely agree:

_1) William is less of a lovable scoundrel and more of a creepy lecher._

I agreed with this to a point...re-reading some of the early versions of my scenes was painful. I toned it down and added more positive reaction from the girls, but I will freely admit I still got carried away with the innuendo on occasion. Adding more characters who didn't react to him as well might have helped with this, too.

_2) The William/Hermione/Harry love triangle went on too long._

This has some merit because 'romantic' relationships between kids in their mid-teens are generally measured in months. I think the three characters, the way I've written them, are stubborn enough that the dragging-on of the love triangle is believable, but the main issue is that their interaction was too repetitive. The stream-of-consciousness plotting of the first half (or more) of the story is to blame for this.

_3) William's final plan was stupid, and it got him killed in the end._

First, JK Rowling left her universe wide open to too many story-breakers. House Elves really are too powerful, and time travel as she wrote it can be far too easily exploited. Also, I've read stories that get really into the incorporation of Muggle weapons and technology, but I'm never that big a fan of it. The latter two can be explained away by William not having ready access to them, but there is almost no excuse to not use House Elves except to increase dramatic tension. I even poke fun of this in my first oneshot, _A Kiss of Cliched Proportions._

But discounting the story-breaking elements, hopefully I at least indirectly covered most of his thought processes on why William discarded various plans. Yes, I personally would have chosen something far less dangerous. Perhaps William was too enamored with his secrets and trying to avoid getting caught by Dumbledore, but it would have been safer to simply spill it all to him on the day of the Third Task and let _him_ set up the trap. There's no guarantee that he would have done so, of course, but that's at least a reasonable plan that William never considered. Considering there was also no guarantee that William's ambush would have gone off as planned either, it's arguably a better one.

But that would also be less exciting, so...

_4) You killed William, you dirty son of a bitch!_

Sorry! But you'll note that William is simply gone from the Potterverse, not dead. In Chapter 8 I sort of foreshadowed this ending, saying something about dying just sending me back.

* * *

**Bonus Omake: What if Hermione figured it out?**

_As you've probably forgotten, I mentioned back in Chapter 18 that I started writing a scene where Hermione figured out my secret. Well, I actually wrote a couple thousand words of it back then before I realized how much trouble it caused, and I saved it in case I wanted to use it later. This isn't as polished as my usual stuff (assuming my usual stuff IS polished) because it's a first draft, but it might still be interesting to you._

_This scene takes place in the Room of Requirement just after Daphne threatens to hex William if he tells Astoria about his plan, not realizing he wasn't talking about Horcruxes. Hermione picks up on the fact that Daphne knows something that she and Harry don't, and calls William out on it. In the story, he successfully distracts Hermione by talking about the Greengrass library, but in my first draft she doesn't fall for it.  
_

I hope that's my out, and I shake my head. "She knows far less than either of you. I realized after she told me about her family that she could be a valuable source of information. So I hinted to her in vague terms that I know what Riddle has done to try to attain immortality and that we're working on a way to counter that. She knows how dangerous that information is. She confronted me before the Ball because I still haven't confided in her, and she was worried that I would bring Astoria into it instead. I promised her I wouldn't. I never told her my original reason for befriending her, so she was worried you were going to bring up what plots she _does_ know about."

All mostly true statements, but I still look mainly at Harry, who is nodding, to try and avoid Hermione's usual secret detector. Between Hermione and Daphne, how am I supposed to make it through the year without spilling everything?

"No." My blood turns to ice at her flat voice.

"What?" Harry asks.

"No, that's not it," Hermione says. Her chocolate eyes come back into focus and bore into mine. "You would have told us that."

I sigh heavily and slump into my chair, trying to buy time while I figure out what to say. I can't tell them that I know who put Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire, because when I refuse to reveal Moody/Crouch, they would take it to Dumbledore or McGonagall. That's the one piece of information I shared with Daphne that I haven't with them. "I told her that aside from that, I have some information from my past that I'm going to act on, and that I would like her input when I do. I swear on my life and my magic that it's to help you. Please don't ask what it is, I can't...I just can't tell you."

I don't look at them when I admit that, and I close my eyes afterward. It seems like their feelings of betrayal are almost palpable, so my eyes shoot open when Hermione takes a deep breath and speaks. "I believe you, but why do you feel like you can talk to her but not us?"

I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I shouldn't tell her this, but... "There may be some danger to me..."

"No!" Hermione says, shooting up off her chair and glaring at me.

I smile grimly. "...and that's why. From your past actions, Harry, I know you believe that some things are worth risking danger for, but I don't think you would let me take any of it. I think you wouldn't be happy unless the only risk is yours."

Harry's jaw clenches in response.

"So you're like Dumbledore," Hermione says softly, "withholding information because you believe you know what's best for Harry."

"Ouch," I say with a grimace. That is especially painful because it's true. "Yes, I suppose that's what I'm doing. My only excuse is that my past gives me a very significant advantage over Dumbledore." I pause, trying to gauge exactly how much they hate me now, which turns out to be a mistake. My heart feels like lead at the hurt in Hermione's face. "I-I told you that you would hate me when you found out, Hermione. I'm sorry that...that..." I want to say more, but the lump in my throat seems to have halted my ability to speak. I stand up and turn around, walking to the wall where the exit should appear.

It doesn't. But I can't face them, so I stand in front of the wall, biting my lip to stop myself from breaking down.

"Harry," Hermione says, finally breaking the silence. Her voice is emotionless. "Will you let me speak to William alone?"

I'm shocked enough by this that I turn around to find Harry equally surprised. "Y-yes, of course."

He stands and I find I can't look into his eyes. "I'm sorry," I say as he walks toward the exit.

"We won't be long," Hermione promises.

With a last look back that I don't have the heart to return, he walks out and closes the door gently behind him.

Hermione regards me silently, I can tell, but I still can't look at her. "You knew about the dragons, you knew about the egg... You know what's going to happen, don't you?"

Without meaning to do so I jerk my head in surprise at her, which gives her all the confirmation she needs.

"You knew Harry was going to be entered, and how the rest of the school was going to treat him. You knew Ron would get angry, then relent after he saw how dangerous it was. That's your advantage over Dumbledore. That's why it would be so bad if he found out!"

I flop bonelessly on the couch, not knowing what to say.

"It all fits, and it's no wonder it took me so long to puzzle out, because it's completely mad!" She stares at me, chest heaving from speaking so fast. "William, say something!"

"I know some," I admit grudgingly.

"I knew it!" She exclaims, jumping up. "How is this possible? What does this mean?"

"Hermione, I know this didn't work the last time I asked, but please don't follow these lines of reasoning."

"William! I already figured it out! You have to tell me everything!"

"You don't understand, Hermione, my presence here is changing things. The more I change, the less I know. The less I know, the lesser the chance I have to change what really matters. I can't...I can't tell you about what's going to happen, because then it won't, and we'll lose our best opportunity."

"Our best opportunity for what?"

I look at her seriously. "At destroying Riddle once and for all."

She pales and sits back down heavily. "That's what you're planning...William, you can't do it alone. Please tell me you won't try to do it alone."

I chuckle grimly. "I'm not that crazy, Hermione. You know the prophecy, Harry is the only one who can get rid of him." My face falls at that. "And I'm manipulating events, and people, including you and Harry, to stack the odds heavily in our favor for when he has to face the monster."

"But don't you see? I can help you!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, you'll want to keep everybody out of danger. That's how Dumbledore operates, too, you know. It saves lives in the short run, but costs dozens or hundreds more in the long run."

She looks hurt, which once again crushes my heart. "I would just listen to you...support your decisions. Only suggest better ones."

"You would try to the best of your ability, I believe that completely. But if the plan forming in my head to act on that information comes to fruition, you _will_ try to stop it. I can almost guarantee that."

"Maybe that's for good reason."

"It is for the best reason, but I still can't let you do it." I say, which confuses her thoroughly.

She ponders that statement for a few moments, then she gasps in shock. "Back up: you know when Harry is going to have to face Riddle, don't you?"

"And if I tell you or Dumbledore when, what's going to happen?"

"We'll stop him from...William! You aren't seriously going to let him!"

"Hermione, _what did I just tell you_? You and Dumbledore...hell, _most people_ would stop him, and you might save a life or two in the short term. And before you ask: no, it's not Harry's. Harry lives through it, like he always does. He duels Voldemort and escapes. Do you want me to start listing the people who die in the future I know? Do you _want_ me to tell you how bad it gets?" I'm standing up now, my voice raised.

She is on the verge of tears so I look away, but I can't back down. "H-how soon?"

"I can't tell you specifics, it's too dangerous," I answer, forcing myself back to calm. "But I will say that Riddle is currently some sort of homunculus in the care of Peter Pettigrew. If only I'd been sent back to your First Year, I could have had somebody collect the Horcruxes and destroy them then, and when Harry defeated Quirrell, it would have been over. But now, even if the Horcruxes are destroyed, we still have Voldemort's body to contend with."

Her eyes are haunted. "What about the one in Harry?"

I look at her seriously. "The only way I know for it to be destroyed is how it's destroyed in the original timeline: when Harry is struck by a Killing Curse from Riddle himself."

"No! _You mean we lose_?"

"No, actually...Harry doesn't die. I'm not sure exactly what happens, but it's only the piece of Riddle's soul inside Voldemort that dies. Harry comes back and duels him again – his third time – several years from now, and kills him once and for all."

Her jaw drops. "So we win?"

I grimace. "Nobody wins in war, Hermione. There are only survivors. That's what I'm trying to prevent."

"W-who? Who dies?"

I raise an eyebrow at her. "You sure you want to know something like that?"

She clenches her jaw, but nods. "I want to know who you're fighting to save, when clearly you could have left everything to play out normally."

I look at her seriously. "I suppose a few choice events might change your mind. There is a mass breakout from Azkaban – every single Death Eater there." She pales, but presses her lips together resolutely. "Remember the vanishing cabinet? Why do you think I know about that? A certain person who shall remain nameless fixes it in a few years, and several of the current residents of Azkaban come to visit Hogwarts." When that only gets a lip tremble, I push a little harder. "Dumbledore is murdered that night." She bursts into tears at that, so I stop. "I told you—"

"No! No, keep going."

I give her a hard look, but she doesn't relent. "After Dumbledore is gone, there is little left to stop Riddle from essentially taking over. Muggles in this country are subjected to almost constant terror attacks. Hermione, you use the Memory Charm on your own parents. You remove all traces of yourself from their memories and convince them to move to Australia."

She bawls her eyes out now, and I'm sure she's had enough. But still she pushes. "But they live, right? Who d-dies, William? Just tell me."

"It's not just adults, Hermione – the final battle takes place at Hogwarts, where lots of damage is done to the castle and many students take part against hundreds of Death Eaters, including current students. And plenty of people die between when Voldemort comes back and then. Severus Snape. Colin Creevey. Alastor Moody. Lavender Brown. Amelia Bones. Cedric Diggory." I look at her sadly. "Remus Lupin...Fred Weasley...Sirius Black."

"No!"

"Remus was married by then, Hermione. He and his wife had a baby. They were both killed a couple months after that."

"No..." she throws herself on me, burying her face in my shoulder and crying.

"Do you see? They aren't the only family destroyed by letting Riddle get away to gather his Death Eaters. He has less than twenty when Harry faces him the first time. He has two hundred when he faces him the final time. I have to do this, Hermione. _I have to_."

She doesn't come up for air for a long time.

* * *

A/N:

So you can imagine why I had to go back and throw Hermione off my trail. Do you think I would have been able to convince her to keep quiet? True, I convinced her about smaller things like the Room of Requirement and the prophecy (although some reviewers found even that stretched believability), but when it comes right down to it, I just didn't see that working.

* * *

_And now what you all (or at least, maybe, some of you) have been waiting for..._

**Sequel Preview**

_With practiced ease I slide the key into the keyhole and open the mailbox. Under the influence of muscle memory I start closing it again after the briefest of glances. But this time, my hand and my heart stop at the exact same moment. My mind goes completely blank when I find a single letter lying within, affixed with quite a bit of postage...international postage. No name is written with the return address – a jumble of numbers and letters I barely register as an address before I tear open the envelope. My eyes skip straight to the end, straight to the signature at the bottom. As soon as I see it, my head swims, my eyes go blurry, and my arms start shaking._

_My world goes dark._

My eyes shoot open.

Or at least, I think they do, but apparently my world decided to stay dark. My sense of balance tells me I'm lying flat on my back, but that's all I really know. Feeling around for the letter, I come up with absolutely nothing except the knowledge that the floor is a lot dirtier than any post office has a right to be. Also, there's a wall. Smothering a stream of curses at my jammed fingers, I sweep my legs outward and listen carefully for rustling paper.

Nothing. What of the letter itself? I try to picture the letter as if I could remember something from it, but all I can picture are generic paragraphs. I can't even remember if it was addressed to me specifically. But I do remember the signature: _Ophion_...the serpent coiled around the egg that birthed the universe, according to some story in Greek mythology. Ophion was also the subject of the pendant I had carved a lifetime ago for a dear friend. But what could that possibly mean? Was it she who sent the letter, and if so, why would she sign it like that? Perhaps her sister? Neither option made much sense, at least not without reading the rest of the letter. Damn it, what did it say?

Okay, so taking stock of my surroundings is apparently worthless. I can't see, so I'm not about to go exploring just yet. It smells...stale, I guess; I smell a pervasive, earthy odor that isn't exactly pleasant but neither is it enough to be discomforting. I do hear some distant noise, but it's just that: indistinguishable, distant noise. However, my own shifting and rustling indicates I'm in some large room, but beyond that I know nothing. I feel...what do I feel? Suddenly it hits me all at once.

I feel...magic! It's back! I poke and prod at it just like I had so many times before...before I died. I remember waking up this morning like I did every morning and wondering if it was all a dream, but here I am, laid out on a dirty floor who knows where, jammed fingers throbbing too painfully for a dream. And yet I can feel my magic once again there in my gut, a comfortable presence that I had missed all that time. Was it the same? I can't tell; it seems calm at the moment, though I distinctly remember it once roiled within, eager to escape and be shaped to my will. Was it just that I never paid that much attention? Tentatively I pull off a couple separate streams like loose threads, except they snap back to the source when I release them, as expected. Obviously it's invisible so it doesn't really have a color, but it doesn't feel like the pure white magic I twice felt before in extreme situations. I wonder if I can even access it anymore, considering...what happened. But clearly this normal magic – cyan, I decide is its color – is back. Am I back, then?

A growing clatter jolts me out of my internal diagnosis just as I decide that I should conjure a light, and faintly reflected light gives me my first view of my surroundings. It's an enormous room with cracked and grayed marble walls and pillars along either side. The light is filtering through the doorway in the center of the wall to my right, and I'm reminded of some kind of old formal hall in a castle despite the apparent lack of any furnishings whatsoever. Suddenly a group of people burst through the door – four of them as far as I can tell, since my view of the door is unobstructed by the columns – and one collapses on the floor.

"You people are crazy," the collapsed one says, and then pulls off a helmet. Wait, a helmet? The castle thing might not be too far off the mark.

I consider eavesdropping for a little while, but I really don't want to piss them off. I decide to take my chances with revealing myself. "Hello?" Their heads whip around and the one with the flashlight aims it right at me. A flashlight...so batteries appear to work wherever we are. I flinch at the sudden brightness after spending so much time in the dark. "Can you help me?"

"Who's there?" A female voice.

"I...uh...William," I say, deciding on the spot to use my old imaginary name. It sounds odd on my tongue now. I stand and brush myself off, looking down to find myself wearing the same jeans and polo I had been wearing at the post office. "I just woke up here a minute ago," I say as I walk slowly toward them, my hands up in front of my eyes. I figure besides shading my still adjusting eyes it lets them see I'm not armed. "Where am I?"

There was nothing but silence behind the light for several moments, then the light turns away to reveal a short, red-haired girl dressed in normal clothing. What the hell? Didn't the first guy have a helmet of some sort on? It could have been a prop or something...

* * *

A/N:

And there you have it: the first thousand words or so of the 10k word first chapter.

So, not what you were expecting? I left a little, tiny hint about where William ended up, but no names because that's just too easy. But I have grand plans for this adventure, and they may involve tackling the question that is often answered in other OC SIs but never answered in this one: why William ended up in the Potterverse in the first place. And they _may _involve a reappearance of a character from this story!

Yes? No? I'm working on a number of other projects at the moment, so no promises on when I'll start publishing it. And no promises that the final version will look exactly like this...I can never resist tweaking these things as I go.

* * *

Final A/N:

And this is the last update I will be making to this story, unless you find some errors for me to fix. Do you agree with my analysis? Did I miss anything? Thank you for reading, and a big thank you especially for all of those who left me reviews, especially the extensive constructive criticism that helps me grow as a writer.


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